


The wind that calls

by ravenria



Series: The Wind that Calls [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Aegon is a real Targaryen, F/M, characters are OOC, more show-verse with mix of some book elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenria/pseuds/ravenria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After conquering King's Landing, the Dragons look to the Kingdom of the North and all that lie beyond it. Prince Aegon makes his way to Winterfell to see the strength of the Starks and the truth in the cries of the Night's Watch. With him he brings his dragon Rhaegal and his mysterious lover- Cat of the Canals. Wary of the Targaryen Prince, King Jon sends his sister to uncover the games this young dragon wishes to play. Things get heated once Cat plays her card on the Prince and things have to get straightened out before the wall falls and the army of the dead cometh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers, please don't kill me if the characters here are very out of character. If you've read my previous work in fanfiction.net you will see a lot of similar themes but this one is completely different. This is set in a way different universe than the books and is more close to the show. So I hope you enjoy this work. And please no haters. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS: there are mentions of nudity but there is no explicit sections of intercourse. I might change the rating later though

Chapter 1

Winter has come.

The dragons come with it.

305 AC. 

With the arrival of Daenarys Targaryen at from across the Narrow Sea, the joint Targaryen forces began their assault on King’s Landing. It did not take long for the city to fall. Starved and ill, the people would rather surrender than take up any arms against the fearful dragons. Queen Cersei Lannister, first of her name, was found strangled to death before the Iron Throne. Her twin, Ser Jaime the Kingslayer, had thrown himself out from the White Sword Tower. Qyburn, the Hand of the Queen, futilely surrenders the Keep and mysteriously found hanging from a parapet the next day. The people thought peaceful terms were ahead of them but white wings fly and they bring darker words than black wings ever did. 

The first snowfall came to King’s Landing on the morning of the coronation. The young Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, Prince of Dragonstone and of the Realm, awoke cold and alone in his bed. He began to stir and seek out the warmth he had slept with the night before but found empty space beside him. He grogilly sat up to scan the room with his squinted eyes and finally found the figure he was looking for at the windowsill. Aegon stood from his bed and found put on some trousers that lying on the floor. He also took a blanket from the day bed as he walked to his ladylove. She was beautiful, sitting there by the glass windows with her hair tousled from sleep and her body naked as the day she was born. He was shivering at the temperature yet she does not seem to mind it at all. A faint smile was visible on her lips he noted. She smiled so rarely so innocently that the image brought an unexplainable joy to him.  
“Cata,” he said softly as he took a seat beside her, wrapping the blanket around both of them.  
“Good morning, my Dragon Prince,” she replied, sitting her self on his warm lap and kissing his lips. “The snow falls this far south. It reminds me of the summer snows of my childhood.”  
“Truth be told, this is the first time I am seeing such a sight. I’ve only read about snow after all.”  
“Snow can be lovely and enjoyable but snow can also bring a cold death,” she said, the smile disappearing from her face.  
“Winter is Coming… the words of House Stark,” Aegon said, looking Cata in reply but it was her masked face that stared back to him instead. It is like that every single day they wake. After her morning kiss she’d turn from a loving woman to the cold swordsman he met all those years ago in Braavos. Aegon sighed and surrendered to reminder. The day has started and today was not any ordinary day. 

The Red Keep was opened to all that day so that all may witness the return of the Targaryens to the Iron Throne. A procession of Dothraki riders and Unsullied flanked Daenarys and Aegon as they ceremonially entered the city with Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion flying behind them. Lord Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the Queen welcomed them at the Keep Gates and together, all three of them entered the throne room. The two Targaryens were crowned together at the steps of the Iron throne in front of all their subjects. A raucous “Long May She Reign!” shouted repeatedly from the crown and music began playing all over the city. The Tyrells spared no food for the starved citizens of King’s Landing and Martells spared no wine. Daenarys’ first allies stood proudly among the later lords.  
“We’ve done it nephew,” the Queen whispered to the Prince during the feast. “We have regained what we have lost.”  
“Yes we have indeed. We have reclaimed the four kingdoms,” Aegon replied in jest. The joke was lost on Daenarys who had been holding her ire about the North.  
“We shall not speak of the Lannister’s failings tonight. It was them who lost half the Kingdom.”  
“Don’t be too haughty about my Queen. I have it on good account that the King in the North is quite an amiable lad,” Aegon replied laughing at the thought. Sometimes Aegon was too cheerful for Daenarys’ tastes but the ease of his person was much appreciated still.  
“And on whose account would that be?” Dany asked, sipping her wine coyly. She may not be so obvious, but she knew quite well that Tyrion had been lobbying for them to take the North through marriage instead of war.  
“Well the Hand of the Queen of course. We are so fortunate that Lord Tyrion knows him personally.”  
“But that was before the Starks and the Lannisters began their little feud. I doubt this King Jon of the North will be welcoming of his good brother.”  
“Let me treat with the northerners then.” Aegon eyed her confidently. His pride brought a chill down Dany’s spine. Aegon was a trickster, that much she was certain.  
“The North remembers every thing. That everyone says. Why do you think you’d fare better than a Lannister when you are the son of the man who kidnapped their lady?”  
Aegon’s smile brightened at the mention of his father’s shame. “My father disappearing for a year with woman, then Eddard Stark returning after a year of war with a bastard. Does it not make you think, dear Aunt?”  
Dany had to admit that she had never thought on the matter before. Eddard Stark was merely Eddard Stark in her mind; she did not care to anything about him. She then remembered her dreams- her dreams of ice dragons and blue winter roses stuck in walls of ice. Viserion then came to mind. Her last dragon still had no rider and grows ever wilder by the day.  
“A dragon must have three heads,” Aegon whispered to her ear.  
“Very well then, I will trust you to treat with the Northerners. After all, the acting Lord Commander of the Night’s watch has sent an urgent call for help.”  
Aegon kissed her hand, pleased with her agreement. “If you shall excuse me, my Queen, the wine is getting to me and I would like to have my mind for tonight.”  
Dany was going to relent but then she followed his line of sight and saw that he was unhappy with the attention his mistress has been getting all night. Cata, Dany saw, was drinking with Lord Tyrion and several other lords. She was dressed beautifully in a Dornish gown that accentuated her lithe warrior’s build and sun-kissed skin. Cata had exchanged her usual black and white mask for a gold one to suit her attire- no doubt a gift from her nephew. Cata’s mysterious beauty stole more glances than Aegon obviously liked.  
Although somewhat discrete about the their relationship, most of the court knew of Aegon’s mistress. They claim that she is a Braavosi sellsword who had been with them on the Shy Maid but rumors say otherwise. Rumors say that she is a sorceress, similar to the Red Women of Asshai who can cast glamours and brew potions. Many women envious of the Prince’s attentions have even gone on to claim that she has cast a seduction spell on the Prince and that an ugly scarred face was underneath the mask. Daenarys did not truly know what to think of this woman. She keeps Aegon safe that much he tells her- Cata warming his bed was a pleasurable addition to the package. Dany watched Aegon and Ser Rolly, his guard, slip out of the room. It did not take long for Cata to excuse herself and also disappear into the crowd. No one ever sees her enter his room; everyone simply hears them.  
“Tell Lord Tyrion that I have need of him,” Danaerys commands a serving girl. There is much more to Aegon’s eagerness to go North than he seems to let on. 

Ser Rolly Duckfield stood guard outside of Aegon’s door. It was already in the night but he knew he had to be especially weary about drunken girls trying to get into Aegon’s room. They wouldn’t want any more names under Cata’s kill list after all. As for other possible threats to the little lad’s life, Cata’s presence has made Rolly’s job a lost easier. In the three years that she’s been with them, not a single assassin has been able to come out of his room alive. Cata knew her trade well and thank the gods Cata did not want Aegon dead. 

Inside Aegon’s room, the lovers lay in each other’s arms by the hearth. Aegon was a jealous man and he did not like it when other men flirted with Cata. She was more beautiful than she was aware of and it irritated him to no end that men lusted her more than they feared him. Cata would do little to reassure him- merely calling him a stupid boy for thinking such silly things. Aegon will be quick to anger and she will be quick to douse his anger. Once he’s calmed though, he liked to take liberties with her. And thus they lay spent on the floor, enjoying the buzz of wine in their heads. It would have been a fine evening but Aegon had to give her the news.  
“We’re going North,” he said, as if he were pointing out a fly.  
Cata sat up in alarm and held his cheek. “What are you planning to do North?” she said with urgency.  
“Nothing violent Cata,” he pressed, taking her hand away from his face. “The Night’s Watch needs help and the crown shall giveth.” Aegon stood up and calmly walked to his bed. Cata watched and measured him up. “What kind of games are you playing Aegon Targaryen? You know you will have to pass thru Winterfell lest you go straight up the shivering sea.”  
“I most certainly won’t go up the shivering sea in this weather my dear. I love the sea but I do hate this weather.” He replied smugly, pillowing his head on his folded arms. She was on his bead in a flash with a blade on his throat.  
“You know my name Aegon Targaryen, I will not have you harm the North,” she warned him. Aegon’s mischievous smile was replaced with that of malice and a dark lust filled his eyes. He turned them and threw her knife to floor and began kissing her passionately.  
“Aye, Arya Stark. I know your name and the gods be mad that I am my father’s son.” He whispered seductively before she gave in and returned his kisses.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon and Arya make their way North and meets an old friend a long the way.  
> Tyrion tries to keep things under his control.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Aegon Targaryen assembled a retinue of fifty men to go North with him. He brought gifts of food and wine for the Northerners as well as rations for his men. It took awhile before they were able to stock up on enough furs to fit the Northern weather but eventually, after a moon’s turn, they were finally at the gates of the capital and ready to ride out. The Lord Hand was seeing them off, giving final reminders to Ser Rolly to keep the brash Prince in check. Everyone on horse back was ready to go when Lord Tyrion asked Cata to speak with for a moment.   
“This is my only chance alone with you my dear,” he whispered slyly. “The Prince’s eyes are more acute than others seem to think.”   
Cata gave him a dry laugh. Her eyes were rolling at him as well but was hidden her mask’s shadow.   
“What do you want from Lord Tyrion?” she asked dryly.  
“I’d like you to give this to my wife, Lady Sansa. It’s a gift I am sure she would most appreciate.” He said, handing her a folded parchment. Cata took it from the Imp’s hand and unfolded it without his permission. She looked back at him questioningly and crouched down to his level.  
“What do you know about me, Imp?” she asked threateningly but was disturbed when Rhaegal’s shadow flew above them.  
“You better get going my Lady. The Prince doesn’t like it when you disappear.” The Imp replied in his snide tone. Cata mounted her horse and shot Lord Tyrion a glance before kicking her horse into a gallop.   
“Farewell good sister…” Tyrion said to the wind as he watched her retreating figure. 

The Riverlands was already ankle deep in snow and the rivers were starting to ice. Carefully still they had to dredge through the slippery landscape.   
“We must rest in a keep,” Ser Rolly said to Cata. He drew his horse close to her so that only they could hear each other.  
“I agree, no amount of dragon flame will keep us warm tonight. Snow is about to fall again,” she replied to the jolly knight. “ I believe Harrenhal won’t be too far from us now.”  
“The little lady knows a lot about the Riverlands…” Rolly quipped.   
Cata laughed at his tease, “You forget Ser that my first order of business was to…” but Duck cut her off before she could finish.  
“Kill Walder Frey. Thank gods you did. Not a single Frey man helped the Lannisters.” Duck stated as if reminiscing on his childhood. “I hope the wolves don’t get us before we reach the castle though.”  
“Don’t worry about the wolves Duck. They won’t harm us…” Cata reassured, her thoughts drifting to an unknown calling. She looked up at the cloudy sky and saw Rhaegal leagues above them. She suddenly reeled her horse and broke from the column. “Tell him I’ll meet you all in Harrenhall!” she shouted to Duck before he could ask more. 

Cata rode west towards the Isle of Faces. She could feel a presence in that direction- she could feel Nymeria. The direwolf pup, with which she was parted as a child, had by now grown. It was not Cata who had wolf dreams though- it was Arya Stark. It was Nymeria who kept on calling for her from across the Narrow Sea and it was Nymeria who was calling to her now. Arya rode into the woods and stopped at a clearing. She was surrounded by animals- she was surrounded by wolves. Fear did not cross her even as the wolves surfaced from the shadows. They were cautious in their approach, waiting to jump at Arya if she makes the wrong move. But Arya was confident and Arya was sure that even after all this time Nymeria was still her own.  
“Nymeria,” she called, “to me.” The great direwolf rose from her pack and happily approached her master. Arya dismounted from her steed and embrace her old friend. “You’ve been such a good wolf”she said as she stroked Nymeria’s head. “I’ve been killing Freys too… and a few lions here and there.” Nymeria licked her cheek and nuzzled into her. However their reunion was interrupted when Rhaegal’s wings sent gales into the clearing.   
“Cata!” Aegon shouted atop his dragon. “What are you doing here? These wolves eat men!” he said frantically, confused at the site. Nymeria gnarled at him and then continued to nuzzle into Arya hand.  
“This is Nymeria, Aegon. She’s my direwolf.” Arya explained.   
Aegon went down and slowly approached her. “You are unharmed, that is good.”  
“They only eat Lannisters and Freys, Aegon.” Arya informed him, proud like a mother.   
“She really is your wolf then.”Aegon smiled at the site. The closer they drew North, the more often he’s seen Arya smiling. “Will she accompany us Northwards? Everyone will surely know now who you are.”  
“No, I will have Nymeria go ahead,” she explained then turned to touch her forehead to the wolf’s as if joining their minds together. Arya let her go and with one last hug Nymeria ran of to the North with her pack.  
“What was that you did?”   
“I asked her to tell her brothers a message for me…” Arya replied as she swung her leg back unto her horse.   
Aegon did not ask her what the message was; he felt it too private for him to know. He had Rhaegal fly out on his own and rode back with Arya to Harrenhall.  
“Your brothers also have direwolves?” he asked her.  
“We all did, but now only two remain. Ghost, Jon’s wolf is still well I hope.”   
“Are they like dragons? Do you need Stark blood to tame a direwolf?”  
“ I don’t know. We are the only ones who owned them as pets in the North.”  
“Hm…” and then he was lost in thought.

They arrived at Harrenhall near sundown. Duck was ready to have a search party dispatched. Rhaegal had beaten them to the castle, driving Aegon’s guards into a panic. Now that all was well, they retired into the rooms the new stewards of Harrenhall prepared. After going through many Lords whose lines died out, Harrenhall was given to no Lord. It was placed in a very strategic location and was ideal to house large numbers. Tyrion proposed that it be turned into a garrison for a Royal Army. The stewards residing in the large castle were select Unsullied who have been tasked to rehabilitate the castle and grounds.   
“I must say that this is one of Lord Tyrion’s brightest ideas.” Aegon remarked as he and Cata walked up to the Lord’s chambers.   
“True, with an army trained in the ways of the Unsullied and the Dothraki, who can go against the Iron throne,” Cata replied dismissively, trying to hide the worry in her voice.   
It did not take long for Aegon to fall asleep. Arya watched him as his breathing softened and turned into a slow rhythmic flow. Arya fell in love with his honest face. They both wore so many masks- his though all looked like his real face. When they are alone, Aegon often sulks as he thinks of the weight he carries. He reflects on his aunt and her liberal ways. He looks at the histories of the kings who came before and often wondered how the world was during their reign. Arya loved that about him. However, Arya was not blind to Aegon’s faults. She saw his ruthlessness when it came to certain causes. It was what drew them to each other in the first place. ‘I want them to die the most tragic deaths,’ he told her after a night of passion. He would often drift into thoughts and dreams once he’s spent his seed inside her. ‘I want the last of the Lannisters to pay the debts they owe my family.’ She kissed him that night with a promise. Arya left his bed at first light and infiltrated the red keep. She posed as Cersei’s handmaiden and sowed discord into her already ailing mind. It helped her a great deal that Ser Jamie was already quite horrified with his sister. In the end, Arya drove Cersei mad with her whispers and poisoned wine. Ser Jaime was a broken man by the time Cersei’s screams were silenced upon her death. Arya cast a glamour to make herself look like Myrcella and guided Jaime to his death. That night, Arya gave Aegon Cersei’s lion locket and he smiled the darkest smile she has ever seen on his face. Arya reveled in their shared vengeance, while another part of her feared for the North. There were times when she’d wonder if Aegon truly loved her. She was not meant to love him. She was not meant to become so unguarded with him. She was Arya Stark; her place was in the North with her family yet she could not leave his side. It seems that she has become a pawn in his games. She wonders though what kind of game he intended to play with Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nymeria needs to return to the show.   
> I love the dire wolves and I've been raging about how little we all saw them last season.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story comes North.  
> Sansa tells Jon of the Dragon Prince's impending arrival and of rumors surrounding the Prince's choice of companions.  
> The darkness in Jon becomes more evident with his anguish but Sansa manages to keep things together.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 3

It was early morning and the sun was rising in the horizon. Jon Snow, King in the North, stood atop the catwalks of Winterfell watching as time goes by before his people awaken for another day of survival. He’d been a live for more than half a year and so much has happened since then. Yesterday, a few men from the Night’s Watch delivered his last living brother back from the Wall. It was the first time he’d seen Sansa wail so much in front of so many people. Bran was almost a grown-man and his looked so much older than they ought to be. With him was Lady Reed who bowed to Jon and swore her house’ fealty to him. House Reed need not come for him to know they were loyal and true.   
‘Bran is alive,’ he kept on thinking. ‘And Rickon was too, until Ramsey killed him.’ The thought made him hope. ‘Perhaps Arya is alive too.’ But he nudged the thought away; hope could only lead him to despair.   
Jon’s thoughts were interrupted when a warm hand tapped his shoulder. He did not need to turn to know who it was. He held her hand firmly and kissed it.   
“You’ve not slept,” she said in a worried voice.  
“You slept weeping,” he replied lightly. He could only feel such lightness in her presence. “Puffy eyes do not go with you Tully blue, Sansa,” he japed as he stroked her cheek.  
“I was simply overjoyed,” Sansa replied in a childlike rebuff.  
“I was too… I was too…” Jon said softly kissing her forehead. ‘If only I could kiss her lips here too,’ he thought but they were out in the open, had these been his chambers or hers, he would have kissed sweetly if not passionately.   
Sansa gave him a subtle smile before breaking the news to him. “The Dragon Prince rides North. He says it’s to answer the Wall’s call for help.”  
Jon breathes out a deep sigh and takes Sansa’s hand to his arm. They walk down together as he thought on the news. “Does he intend to pass Winterfell?” he finally asks.   
“He does. He’s already in our lands. Moat Cailin sent a raven, asking if they may host the Prince. He brings with him a dragon and fifty men.”   
Jon stops at the door and faces Sansa. “What are your thought on this?” he asks before they are met with other people.   
“He is exploring our strength. Surely they know we are in no position to war with them.”  
“He means to measure us…” Jon replies. Ever since news of the dragons arriving in Westeros reached them, the Lords of the North and the Vale have been clamoring to defend their southern borders. ‘The true war is in the North,’ Jon reminded them. ‘If the Dragons come as friends I will have no reason to turn them.’ Jon was certain about his stand on the dragons; Sansa had advised him well. He was about to open the doors when Sansa pulled him back for a moment.  
“I have more news, but I do not wish for you to take the truthfulness of this to heart.”  
Jon’s heart sank at Sansa’s hesitation. He nodded for to proceed and she moved for him to bring his ear to her. “I have news of Arya, Lord Tyrion wrote me a mysterious missive,” Sansa whispered to his ear.   
Jon suddenly held her shoulders with urgent force, his calm completely gone. “What did it say?!”  
Sansa took a deep breath; she always had to take a breath when the fire in Jon’s eyes would burn. “He wrote this…” she replied, handing him the letter.   
‘My sweet wife, how fare thee? I have sent you a gift and my good sister rides with it.’ He read and new rush of rage floods through his veins. “The rider arrived early this morning.”  
“Where is the man who delivered this?” Jon asked franticly.  
“He is detained at the dungeons. I had the men give him a warm cloak and some food and drink.”   
“Thank the gods for you, love.” He said, kissing her forehead again before rushing down to the dungeons.  
Sansa watched Jon walk away and clutched onto Tyrion’s letter. She worries for him. Tyrion was a shrewed trickster but he was never cruel to her. Sansa hoped that exile had not changed Lord Lannister much. 

“Who rides with the Dragon Prince?” Jon asks the messenger with pretentious calm. Ser Davos had joined him in the questioning at the urging of Lady Sansa.  
“I am not sure m’lord,” the rider replied but was struck by a guard before he could finish.  
“You shall show due respect man, this before you is his grace King Jon,” the guard reprimanded. Davos waved the guard to the side, seeing Jon’s ire. He did not need this violence now; he needed answers.  
“Again I ask you young man, who rides with the Dragon Prince?”  
“I left long before them your grace. I dunno who ‘is his companions are…” the man reiterated in distress. Jon sat back into his chair and looked to the doorway. Ghost was there looking like a giant monster with his furious red eyes. The rider shrank back in fear of the animal. Ghost growled and the man whimpered. “But the Prince is never without his two guards. The Kingsguard Ser Rolly Duckfield and Cat of the Canals are always with ‘im… surely they’ll be with ‘im now.”  
Jon peaked at the latter name. “Who is Cat of the Canals?”  
“I’ve seen her only once your Grace. I really do not know much about the Braavosi.”  
“A woman?” Ser Davos remarked.   
“Yes Ser, a Braavosi sell sword the Prince keeps ‘is guard and mistress, the men say…” the Rider added, hoping the for the interrogation to be over. His prayers were momentarily answered when King Jon stood up and headed for the door, but he did not leave without final orders. “Stay Ser Davos, report to me what other rumors this man knows.”  
“As you wish, your Grace.” Ser Davos replied. The King in the North left with his great direwolf and frost in his trail.

Jon made his way to Sansa’s study with Ghost. He did not bother knocking and found her at her desk buried in papers. “Tell Moat Cailin that they may host the Dragon Prince and that we shall be riding south to greet him,” he commanded. Sansa was usually displeased when he spoke to her that way but dare not flare his rage this time. She got to writing and had a page bring the letter to the rookery.   
“A woman does ride with the prince,” Jon says once the page left. He sank into a vacant chair and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “A Braavosi sell sword who is also his mistress.”  
“Mistress?” Sansa scoffed. “The sellsword part I believe could be Arya, but I doubt our sister will be anyone’s lover.”   
Jon looked up at her and let out another deep sigh. “You changed from the frivolous little girl I knew. Perhaps circumstance has changed Arya as well?”   
Sansa dropped her pen and realized the wisdom in Jon’s thoughts. Circumstances can change a person- and for a person as stubborn as Arya those circumstances must have been dire indeed.   
“Let me be the one to ride to Moat Cailin,” Sansa suggested, putting her finger on Jon’s lips to silence him. “No doubt Tyrion has some design in this. Chances are that it is not our sister riding with Prince Aegon but given the chance that Tyrion speaks the truth we cannot have your rage killing the heir to the southern kingdoms.”   
Jon wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head into her belly. She stroked his hair and moved to sit on his lap. “I promise Jon, if Arya is with the Prince, I will find a way to bring her home.”   
“I’m imagining the worst of things. If he treats her like how Ramsey treated you, I promise all the gods in existence, I will kill that Prince and care not if his dragon burns me.” Jon’s vow took root in Sansa’s mind. She too worries that Arya might be suffering but part of her knew that their sister was never as stupid as she ever was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a newly turned JonSa fan, obviously.  
> and I love how well Sansa's character developed through the seasons.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran makes it back to Winterfell and has a deep conversation with Jon.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Brandon Stark has not been in a featherbed in years. He found it uncomfortable even but the warmth of the hearth is something he would always appreciate. The warmth of his sister’s embrace is also another thing he would always appreciate. Sansa looked so much like their Lady Mother when he saw her running out of the keep to see him. Meera had to stand back as Sansa fussed over her long lost brother. It took a while before Sansa collected herself. She had repressed her grief over Rickon’s death that she could no longer contain her joy when she saw Bran alive and returned to them.

Then there was Jon. 

Jon observed them from a good distance. He looked unsure of how to act after Sansa’s emotional greeting but there was a hint of smile in his features that Bran knew was for him. He and Jon had been close as children. Jon taught him how to ride, how to hold a sword, and how to do all the little things boys were supposed to do. Jon, Robb, and Theon were his older brothers and all of them died in one way or another. Bran looked him in the eyes from across the grounds and saw so much darkness in his brother. He had always been a sullen child, but dying had taken something from him.   
There was also guilt in them, Bran noted. Guilt for being King after Robb, guilt for not saving Rickon, guilt for loving Sansa, and perhaps even guilt for living. Bran wished to tell him so much but now was not yet the time. He had grown weak from the journey south and he could barely keep awake. They will talk on the morrow. There is much ahead for Jon, much that Bran must prepare him for. 

Bran was carried into his old room followed by Meera and Sansa. Food and drink were brought up from the kitchens and Sansa took care of them, as a proper host should. Meera appreciated the home cooked food. Bran could not help but notice the relief in her eyes as she ate her portions. A room across the hall was prepared for her but Meera had requested to stay with him. Bran was thankful for all that she had done and told her to at least have one good night’s rest.   
“I did not carry you for so long only to fail you now,” she told him.  
“You can never fail me,” he said before closing his eyes to sleep. 

Bran slept for three days. When he awoke, Meera informed him that Sansa had left for Moat Cailin to check on their bannermen. Bran knew the truth and Meera knew he did.   
“The Prince makes his way up North. Arya has done well.” He tells her.   
“Your other sister?”  
“Yes, my wildling of a sister. She’ll like you.”   
Meera did not say anything and continued to enjoy the warmth and safety of the keep.   
“Will you ask someone to help to the godswood?” Bran asked and Meera complied.   
She found two large guards who helped carry Bran down to the heart tree. A pang of guilt and sadness rushed through her as she was reminded of Hodor. The gentle giant was the most loyal and selfless man she had ever known. They must make it through the Long Night; else his sacrifice would be for naught.  
Bran was seated on one of the large roots and Meera covered him with a warm blanket.   
“Must you really look into the weirwoods so much?” she asked him worriedly.  
“I’ve told you. I am the three-eyed-raven now. I need to see…” he said and went into a trance when he gripped onto the tree. Meera sat by his side and tended to her blades. 

“Lady Reed,” King Jon said from behind her.  
Meera immediately stood up and bowed before her King. “Your Grace,” she said.  
“Please my Lady, let us speak casually,” he said taking a spot beside Bran and unsheathed his valyrian steel sword. “My brother, where has he gone?” he asked, seeing Bran’s white eyes.  
“You are familiar with the gift your Grace.”  
“I’ve met several wargs beyond the wall.”  
“He’s not warging your Grace. Bran is looking through the weirwoods.” Meera answered. “He could very well be at any place or any time right for all we know.”  
“Bran can see into the past?” Jon asked with a hint of nerves.   
Meera nodded but her eyes went to Bran before she could answer. He was back and she knew he wished to be alone with the King.   
“Will you excuse your Grace,” she said, quietly leaving before Jon dismissed her.  
“Bran,” Jon said with much hesitation in his voice. He wonders what Bran knows and what Bran has seen. “Are you alright?” he asked holding on to his brother’s hand.  
Bran looked to him with his aged eyes and reassured him. “Yes Jon, I am well but we have much to talk about… or better yet, there is much I need to show you.” Bran gripped on Jon’s hand and brought his mind into the weirwood with him.   
Jon found himself in a place he had never seen before. There was no snow around him but there was an abundance of sand mixed with some golden grass. The sky was a clear blue and the sun was shining proudly behind a tall tower.   
“We’re at Dorne,” Bran tells him. Jon turns around to see Bran standing behind him. “Watch carefully Jon.” Jon then heard the sound of steel against a whetstone and saw three knights at the foot of the Tower. From afar he could hear the pounding horses getting nearer.  
“Northerners,” the largest of the three said to his companions.   
“Our prince has lost the battle then,” a man with blonde hair and deep purple eyes said sadly. “But our vows to him does not end there.”  
The northerners arrive and Jon recognizes one of them. The man who led them oddly looked too much like him that he could only be none other than Eddard Stark. Jon watched the battle and he saw how Howland Reed stabbed Ser Arthur Dayne from behind. His honorable father’s famous victory was a lie. His mouth fell and he was frozen at the sight but Jon was startled back to life when a shrill cry of woman was heard from the tower and he saw Eddard Stark run up the stairwell.  
“Let’s follow him,” Bran said tapping onto Jon’s shoulder.   
They entered a room that smelled of fresh blood mixed with an oddly fruity pungent scent. Jon knew that smell from his childhood. He remembered the day Arya was born. He and Robb were left to Old Nan and were told to watch over the toddler Sansa whilst everyone was busy with Lady Catelyn. The boys were too young then. Robb heard his mother’s scream and rushed out of the room and Jon followed him to bring him back. Robb was quick even as a child. They were already outside Lady Catelyn’s chambers when he caught up with him. The door opened and the smell of blood filled the halls. Lord Eddard walked out holding a tiny babe in his arms. He saw the pair and beckoned them to come and see their sister.   
Nervously Jon followed Bran into the room. He saw a woman who looked so much like an older Arya drenched in sweat and covered in blood from the waist down. Lord Eddard crouched down by her side and listened to her pleas as she clung to life.   
“Robert will kill him,” Jon heard her say. “Promise me you will protect him… Promise me, Ned. Promise me,” she kept on saying. The midwife handed a babe to Eddard. Jon could feel the breath leaving him. He was shaking and clutching at his chest. Then they were back at the godswood.   
Jon let go of Bran frantically and vomited by the frozen pond. He could not catch his breath. So many thoughts were running through his head. Jon needed to get a grip of his mind. He longed for Sansa’s touch but she was not there to placate him. All he felt was the snow wetting his knees and palms. He threw some snow onto his face to shock himself back into a calm. Ghost was suddenly by his side nudging on his shoulder. He gripped onto his direwolf’s fur and looked into his red eyes. Ghost’s presence managed to calm him. ‘I am still a wolf,’ he thought. ‘You may not have my name but you have my blood,’ he heard his father tell him when they saw each other last.   
Jon looked back at Bran who looked at him steadily. Bran looked as if he were part of the heart tree. He looked daunting against the white roots and trunk with the red leaves surrounding him. “Father lied,” he managed to gasp out.  
“You are the Prince who was Promised Jon. A prince borne from the line of old Valyria and the first men.”  
“I am just a man Bran,” he cried out letting himself fall to the ground. “How can I carry the fate of the world on my own?”  
“No, Jon. We all carry our fate.” Bran replied. “We must stand together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon me for paraphrasing Lyanna's final words. I just wanted to focus more on Jon.
> 
> Thank you to those who commented. I am glad you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in King's Landing Tyrion starts moving his pieces along.
> 
> Things are setting up :)

Chapter 5

The nights come earlier as they went deeper into winter. It had been long since Tyrion last snowfall. He had been young man at Casterly Rock, cleaning pipes and drains. They have enjoyed a long summer- one that came to a bitter end. The wars made the summer irrelevant. The food stores in most towns were depleted. Thank the gods the Reach and Dorne maintained a bountiful harvest during the last summer months. ‘A long summer portends and longer winter,’ he remembered someone saying. “And the dead come with it,” he whispers to the wind.   
It had been a moon’s turn since Prince Aegon and his party had left. Things in the capital have gone into a lull. With Aegon gone, Daenarys was able to form her small council to her liking. Save for the position of Master of Laws given to Ser Jon Connington, the council was made up entirely of Daenarys’ men. The power struggle between aunt and nephew was all to worrying for Tyrion. As Hand, he needed to keep the two Targaryens in a balance. ‘A third calm one will do the realm some good,’ he thought, reflecting back on Daenary’s telling him about Aegon’s suspicions about Jon Snow.   
He himself had not thought on the matter before. Tyrion had very few memories of Rhaegar Targaryen to make a good comparison but timing and logic do agree. If Jon Snow did turn out to be a Targaryen, he had enough force to challenge both Daenarys and Aegon with half the continent supporting him. Tyrion reflected more on the disillusioned boy he had forged a friendship with on the wall. ‘He was the only Stark who actually liked me,’ Tyrion recalled fondly. ‘He’s so very different from his brother. Aegon’s temperament is Dornish though his looks are Targaryen.’  
Tyrion had always been weary of Prince Aegon. He had a stronger claim than Daenarys but he did not have her dragons or her army. The alliance was forced to say the least and Tyrion knows that ambition is still aflame in Aegon Targaryen’s heart. And sometimes Tyrion thinks that Aegon will be a better ruler than Daenarys. She is a conqueror while he is a politician.   
He had been trying to figure out his Braavosi guard since they met the young prince at Dragonstone. She commanded such a fearful presence especially for a girl built so petite. She spoke Braavosi perfectly and she spoke the common tongue like a highborn. It was then that Tyrion became more intrigued by her. He watched her carefully, observing her looks. ‘Long brown hair and a long face’ he noted, ‘I need to see her eyes up close.’ Her black and white mask shadowed her eyes the way Prince Aegon’s blue hair hid his before. Tyrion struck gold the night of the coronation though. Cata changed her mask into one of gold and silver. This one was more ornate and hid less of her eyes. ‘Grey,’ Tyrion saw while they drank together during the feast.   
“Prince Aegon means to go North,” Daenarys said to him that night after she’d ask for him to meet her alone in the small council chambers. “He believes Jon Snow is his half-brother.”  
“Ahh…” was all Tyrion could say. Two revelations in one night made his wine taste blande. He did not inform his Queen about Arya Stark. Tyrion needed to understand Aegon’s plans.   
He stared at his cyvasse board. He had been losing to himself for a good half hour now and things were not looking up. He downed what remained of his wine and walked to his balcony. 

‘Daenarys needs to go North too,’ he realizes. ‘Thank the gods I had the foresight to cause a little ruckus.’  
He’d asked Daenarys to write him a decree of dissolution of his marriage to Sansa Stark. It was a last act of kindness he wanted to give his estranged wife. He also wanted to sow some good will between Sansa and the Queen. Having Arya Stark deliver it herself was just a nice little touch he added. 

A knock was heard on his door and Lord Varys was announced.  
“What brings you to my room tonight Lord Varys?” Tyrion asked his old friend.  
“Lord Connington seems to be preparing to lead the Golden Company North. He’s been gathering supplies,” the Eunuch reported.  
“As have I, our army is not dressed for the winter,” Tyrion replied handing a goblet of wine to his friend.  
“I know…” Varys replied, “What are you planning exactly?”  
“We need to go North. I know Jon Snow and he is not one to lie about White Walkers. We shall continue playing the game of thrones after the war for the dawn is won.”   
Varys sighed and took a sip of Dornish Red. “My little birds can barely see so far beyond Moat Cailin.”  
“It would be at Winterfell though where Aegon will be making his move.”  
Varys looked pointedly at Tyrion and swayed his head in thought. “The Prince is not one to believe in prophecies like his father.”  
“That’s where I think you are mistaken old friend.”  
“Aegon has never believed himself to be the Prince who was promised.”  
“Indeed he does not and he does not intend to be that Prince.” Tyrion dramatically walked over to the fire and dumped his wine onto the flames. “He intends to assert his claim after the war.”  
Varys nodded and applauded Tyrion for his theories but said nothing of his own thoughts. Tyrion still could not gauge which side Varys was truly on. He simply assured himself that he was putting all his cards on Daenarys’ side. 

“Lord Connington, have the preparations to march North been completed?” Daenarys suddenly asks the old lord at the small council meeting.  
If he was caught by surprise he did not show it. Lord Connighton kept his haughty demeanor and replied confidently. “Yes your grace. The Golden Company has been equipped and Unsullied has been as well. Rations that should last for several moons have been gathered and ready for transport. The Dothraki horde, however, proves to be a problem.”   
Tyrion was not expecting Connington to be watching his own moves. He would have to applaud the old man including Tyrion’s movements in his report.  
“A good number of the horse lords have gone south for better weather, Khaleesi,” Missandei reported.   
Daenarys sighed at the thought. It was true that the Dothraki will not do well if they march North. The cold has already taken a good number of lives. Dorne was kind enough to open their lands to them, given that no violent raids would occur during the duration of the Winter.  
“Are the ships ready Lady Asha?” Daenarys asked. Though the sea by this time would be more dangerous, it would be the quickest way to the North.   
“They are, my Queen. We have two fleets assembled. One is assembled in the Iron Islands and another at Dragonstone.”  
“Excellent, Grey Worm and I will lead the Unsullied and the Golden Company up to the Shivering Sea from Dragonstone while Lady Asha takes the Ironborn and the remaining Lannister army. The Tyrells and Martells will follow by land with the rest of the provisions. Send word to the Lord Commander that his Queen marches for him,” Daenarys declared. There was nothing more to be said and Tyrion was pleased.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Targaryen arrive at Moat Cailin

Chapter 6

The Neck proved to be a very unforgiving route. It had been years since Arya last past this way and back then it was summer. Who would’ve known that the marshes and swamps would be worse in the winter? Well anyone in the right mind could. They had no choice at this point but to carry on. The snows were getting deeper and the winds colder. Thank the gods for Rhaegal’s fire keeping them warm and safe in the night. Aegon had managed to tame the beast so well. Arya looked on him proudly as the Prince sat against his dragon’s head. His connection to Rhaegal seemed to have the same connection with him like Arya had with Nymeria. Often times, she recalled, Aegon stirring in the night and she wondered if he was dreaming of dragons. Aegon never spoke to her of his dreams, nor did she to him.   
Arya walked away from the fire and approached the sleeping prince.  
“The men will have your tent ready in a while,” she said handing him some wine.  
“It seems warmer to sleep here by Rhaegal,” he replied taking the flagon and tapping the spot beside him. They have not had the luxury to sleep with each other since Harrenhall. Aegon knew it would not bode well for him for news of his affair with Arya to reach Winterfell. They were in Stark territory now; he will not dishonor one of them. Though he had not voiced these thoughts to Arya, she knew quite well that he is preoccupied with things greater than his own carnal desires.   
‘He rides Rhaegal more often these days,’ she thought as they sat together in silence. ‘He speaks less to me these days.’ Arya wondered what it was that preoccupied Aegon so much- what it was that he felt the need to distance himself from her. Their days together were already numbered. Why must he turn away from her so quickly?  
“We will reach Moat Cailin before nightfall tomorrow,” he said, “I could already see its ancient walls when I’m on Rhaegal.”  
“I will be home soon then,” she replied, glancing at the men to check if any of them were within earshot.   
“Aye… you will be home soon,” he said in a low voice, turning his head away from her.  
“Is this the reason why you’ve been so sullen?” Arya confronted him, cross about the stupidity of his reason.  
“Of course not. And I have not been sullen,” he defended weakly. He sounded tired and dismissive but Arya will not let this go.  
“Yes you have, I know you’ve been brooding all days whilst you fly around. Speak to me Aegon, what has happened to the fire in you?” She turned his head so that he would face her. Her heart sank when she saw his exhausted face. He had not been sleeping well, that much was obvious.  
He took a deep breath as he held on to her hand that was on his cheek.   
“Daenarys sent thousands of Dothraki to their deaths when she brought them across the Narrow Sea. The Unsullied have been freed of their shackles but she enslaves them with her whims. If I cannot bear this cold with all my furs and with warmth of my hearth, how can they? They are people from climates warmer than the Dornish sun. They are in a foreign land following a Queen who is ill prepared to rule. Now we all go north because Daenarys wants the seven Kingdoms and not merely four. I doubt Tyrion will bring the people of Essos to this weather but with the Southron forces gone, how will the south fare against these foreigners? No matter how much I think on it, only Fire and Blood awaits us- be it from Daenarys or from the White Walkers.”  
Arya was surprised to hear such noble thoughts from him. ‘Ruling is a duty, not a right,’ he once told her back when they were in Storm’s End. Arya knew that Aegon wished to sit the Iron Throne but she never really saw how fit he was for it.   
Arya leaned forward and kissed him sweetly. “I promise I will help you in any way I can,” she said as she leaned her forehead against his.   
“You know my heart is yours, do you not?” he asked her in a whisper.  
“I do… as much as it pains me to admit, mine belongs to you too.”  
“Never forget that truth my love. Amidst the games we will be playing, I need you to never ever forget that.” Aegon looked into Arya’s eyes with severity. His words burned into her heart and she nodded her agreement. 

They arrived at Moat Cailin past noon the next day. The usually abandoned stronghold had banners flying on its walls. “Houses of the Vale,” Cata said to Ser Rolly.  
“You think they’ll be hostile?” the knight asked.  
“I doubt it. I’m certain they’ve known we were coming since entered the Neck. Crannogmen should have informed them already,” she explained. Aegon was riding his horse just behind them, looking at the sigils on display. ‘Royce, Waynwood… Arryn,” he noted. Then several riders from the north came into view. They carried the sigil of an unknown house along with a white flag.  
Cata fixed her mask in place and gripped on needle’s hilt from behind her cloak. No one can see her sword before Jon.   
The column stopped and Ser Rolly moved forward to meet with the riders. Cata and Aegon watched them closely. ‘Rhaegal is close enough to protect me if need be,’ Aegon reminded himself. It did not take long before Ser Rolly returned to have Aegon move forward and meet with the messenger. Aegon put on his most charming smile and nudged his horse forward while Cata followed at a good distance.  
“His royal highness, Prince Aegon of house Targaryen, Prince of the Dragonstone and of the Real,” Ser Rolly announced.  
“Ser Davos of house Seaworth, Hand of the King in the North,” the soldier from the other side replied and an old man with a stern face came forward and dismounted from his horse. Aegon and Ser Rolly did the same and they approached each other calmly.  
“Ser Davos, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Aegon said, holding out right hand to the old man.   
Ser Davos eyed him curiously but nonetheless shook the Prince’s hand. Princes are often not that friendly.   
“Prince Aegon, we were informed that you were coming this way. Lord Tyrion Lannister has written my Lady. He hopes that you will be allowed to pass safely on your way to the Wall.” Ser Davos spoke not with a Northern accent, Cata noted. She’d heard these tones more from seafarers in the south, and there has never been a House Seaworth in the North.  
“I’m glad you received the Lord Hand’s message. Might I take this as permission to pass through your lands?” Aegon asked, still with that charming mask of his.  
“Aye, your Grace. I have also come here to escort you into the forth before we all head to Winterfell. The Lady Sansa awaits to host you at Moat Cailin.”  
Cata’s heart began to beat nervously when she’d heard Sansa was at the stronghold. She did not expect to see any of her siblings until they got to Winterfell. But she could not help but wonder why Jon would send both his Hand and their sister to welcome Aegon to the North.  
“Thank you Ser Davos, I am anxious to meet your Lady.”

Once they entered the stronghold, Cata saw the many tents the Vale knights had erected. This Keep was worse for wear but was a strategic location. Ser Davos lead them into a large tent at the middle of the grounds where the Stark banner flew proudly. Outside the entrance stood guard several Stark men. Cata had to suppress her smile when she saw them and could not help but feel proud of her siblings.   
Ser Rolly and Cata flanked Aegon as they entered the tent following Ser Davos.   
“Your Grace, Prince Aegon, may I introduce to you Princess Sansa of House Stark, Lady of Winterfell,” said Ser Davos and a beautiful lady with auburn hair stood from her seat, handing her hand out for Aegon to kiss. “And this is Lady Brienne of Tarth, her sworn sword.” Cata recognized Brienne from when they met at the Bloody Gate and hoped that the woman will not recognize her. Cata noted that none of the supposed Lords of the North or the Vale were present. It gave her a sense of foreboding and she wondered what Sansa was intending.  
“It is my pleasure to finally meet such a great beauty Princess,” he said before taking her hand gently kissing it. Cata could not help but feel irritated at the site.   
“The pleasure is all mine Prince Aegon, may I invite you and your companions to sit have a meal with me before you retire for the night?” Sansa said in perfect tone.   
“Thank you Princess, we are indeed quite tired and we’ve been saving much of our food and have barely eaten.”  
“We do not have much to spare but I hope you will find this adequate.”  
It truly was a meager meal of bread, some pieces of cured meat, and ale but it was much better than the food they’ve been having.   
“Forgive me Prince Aegon, but might I inquire about your companions?” Sansa asked as she broke her bread into tiny little pieces.  
“How rude of me, I forget my manner sometimes princess. These are my most trusted guards, Ser Rolly Duckfield, and Cat of the Canals of Braavos.”  
“All of you are from across the Narrow Sea? I heard the weather there is quite warm,” Sansa remarked, eyeing Cata.  
“It is definitely not this cold, princess,” she replied calmly. Surely her voice has changed since they last met and thankfully Sansa did not seem to recognize her.   
“I advise you do keep warm, even us Northerners are feeling the cold especially at night. Lady Brienne here has not completely adjusted and she’s been with me for at least a year now, correct?”  
“Well my princess, Tarth is usually warm,” Lady Brienne answered uncomfortably.  
“Tarth is the sapphire isle, is it not?” Aegon asked lightly and Brienne nodded. “I believe we passed by it whilst we were sailing to Dragonstone from Storm’s End,” he said to Ser Rolly who looked as if he were trying to recall.   
“Aye, the large island with the pretty mountains?” Ser Rolly asked in between his bites.  
“Yes Ser, my home is known for being a mountainous island,” Brienne replied feeling all the more awkward. She knew that her father has most likely sworn fealty to Aegon Targaryen already.  
“Who holds Storm’s End now your Grace?” Sansa suddenly asked.  
“I have given the seat to Lord Jon Connington,” Aegon replied. Sansa simply nodded back looking disinterested at whoever Lord Connington was.   
She then suddenly turned her attentions again to Cat. “Lady Cat, would you be a water dancer?” she asked and Aegon tensed. He looked sideways to Cat and waited for her to reply.  
“Yes I am, princess.”   
“I knew a water dancer once,” Sansa continued as she stared at Cat intently. “His name was Syrio Forrel. Could you have known him perhaps?”  
Aegon grew nervous at the line of questioning but pretended not to mind.   
“I have heard of him. He is quite famous.” Cata replied, hiding her irritation. Sansa never knew Syrio. Sansa never knew of her dancing lessons.   
“My sister was a student of his,” Sansa pressed on. “She was not the conventional kind of lady you see. She wanted to be a warrior like Lady Brienne.”   
“You say ‘was’ my lady, may I ask what has happened to your sister?” Aegon suddenly asked.   
Sansa shifted her gaze from Cata and looked Aegon straight in the eye. Her gaze bore into him and there was a cold rage within them. “She’s disappeared your Grace. I believe she’s been causing mischief somewhere.”   
“Killing Lannisters perhaps?” Aegon quipped.  
“Perhaps Freys as well.” The cold fire in Sansa’s eyes was immediately replaced by a dark pleasure. The thought of Walder Frey’s throat slit had always given her a guilty kind of solace.   
“To whom does your brother plan on awarding Riverrun? If you don’t mind me asking,” said Aegon, trying to change the topic away from the missing Stark sister.  
“King Jon is yet to meet with the Riverlords. They are all still recuperating from rebelling against the Freys. But I am sure my brother will choose wisely. He is a very prudent man.”   
“I have heard great things about your brother. I’ve been hearing even magical things.”  
Sansa smiled at the mention of Jon’s achievements. “Yes and most of them are true. Some are a little exaggerated but most of them are true.”  
“Did he really die?” Aegon asked bluntly.  
“Yes he did. Had it not been for Ser Davos, my brother surely would no longer be with us.” Sansa turned to the old man who has been quietly observing the conversation. “Aye, princess. We are all quite fortunate that the Red God chose to give King Jon back his life.”  
“He must have moved you so greatly for you to make an effort to revive him,” Aegon now turned his gaze onto the Lord Hand. ‘He is as loyal as Tyrion it seems.’  
“King Jon is the greatest man I have ever met. He is a walking miracle- the man who would lead us through the long night.” Ser Davos proclaimed with unerring devotion.   
“People say the same of my Aunt Queen Daenarys. I feel they might get on quite well,” Aegon remarked. Cata noted a fleeting twitch in Sansa’s eye when Aegon mentioned the Dragon Queen.   
“We’ll travel to Winterfell tomorrow once all of you have rested for the night. My brother is eager to host you at our home.” Sansa said with finality. They have all finished their meals in between the tersest of conversations and no longer had any excuse to keep company. Cata felt a surge of relief at the thought of finally escaping her suspicious sister’s presence. Unfortunately, as they were walking out of the tent, Ghost came running in and jumped on top of her.   
“Cata!” Aegon shouted, drawing his sword. Ser Rolly drew his as well but they stopped when the saw the direwolf playfully licking Cata’s face.   
“Ghost! To me,” Sansa commanded and the large white wolf looked up and whined before walking off to Sansa’s side. “I hope he didn’t frighten you. Ghost simply gets excited sometimes,” Sansa explained as she stroked the wolf’s fur.   
“No worries your highness, I am also quite fond of animals,” Cata replied as she fixed her mask into place.   
“Are you alright?” Aegon asked her frantically, personally inspecting her face to see if she had been injured. He touched her with such familiarity that Ser Rolly had to cough to remind him that they were in the presence of others.  
“Yes I am your Highness,” Cata replied sternly and she shook her heard towards Sansa.  
“Well, then if you would excuse us Princess. We shall see you on the morrow.” Aegon said begrudgingly. His own lack of restraint irritated him to no end but the fear of seeing that large wolf attack Cata had just been too much to contain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making this a less touching reunion, I'll make up for it I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally at Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it's considered smut, but this one has some steamy bits although nothing explicit at all.

Chapter 7

They rode for Winterfell the next day. Sansa did not make a fuss over Ghost’s reaction and kept to her tent for the rest of the night. Aegon voiced his worries and reminded her to cooperate with his plans for a little while longer. Arya acquiesced; she was going home either way. She felt bad for not telling Sansa directly but Arya knew Sansa had already found her out. Her sister did not look all that stupid any more. Arya noted how Sansa rode on her own horse with Ghost by her side- her sister has come a long way from the last time they were on the road together. 

Rhaegal and Aegon flew overhead so Arya rode with Ser Rolly again at the middle of the Targaryen column. She did not want Aegon to see how delighted she would be to see Winterfell again. Excited was an understatement to what she was feeling, especially for a person who was usually did not feel anything at all. Returning to Westeros and being with Aegon so much had awakened her heart after years of nihilism.   
She wondered now how she would feel once she sees Jon again. Arya had always yearned to see Jon again. She started to miss him even before they said their goodbyes. She held on to Needle and smiled. ‘I don’t know if I’d be happy or wrought if does not recognize me immediately,’ she asked herself. But then again, Jon perhaps already knew about her. Sansa must have sent a rider out, or perhaps even through Ghost Jon knew. Fear began to set in. Arya looked up at Rhaegal. ‘What Jon has heard rumors about me and Aegon?’ she worried for Aegon and she worried for herself. Arya then realized that after all that had happened she wanted Jon to see her as the little girl whom he used to comfort when her septa was being cross. ‘No, Jon will love regardless of what I’ve done,’ she reassured herself but it did not stop the pounding of her heart once Winterfell came into view.   
“It’s a magnificent castle, don’t you think little Lady?” Ser Rolly asked her lightly.  
“It most certainly is. There’s not place like it.” She replied in a soft voice. She wanted to run her horse to the gates. She wanted to run to the godswood. She wanted so much to be that little again but she had to rein in her heart. Arya calmed herself with several breaths making Ser Rolly look at her confusedly but the Knight did not bother to ask.

Aegon set Rhaegal down in a small clearing near the gates of Winterfell. There was little space to really leave the dragon. There were tents from the walls to the horizon filled with smallfolk and soldiers alike. ‘No wonder the knights of the Vale had been relegated to Moat Cailin. There isn’t any space here,’ he noted.   
Ser Rolly and Cata approached him with his stead so he might ride with them into Winterfell. The household was out in the courtyard to welcome back their Princess. Aegon also noted several Lords but he could not see anyone wearing a crown. They all dismounted and Ser Davos introduced him to each and every one of the Lords in attendance. Princess Sansa had excused herself saying her brother the King was unwell. She promised the King would receive them at supper to make up for his absence. Aegon was disappointed but cared not to show how slighted he felt. He needed to charm these Northern Lords first before all else. 

Sansa knocked on the door of Jon’s chambers. There was no answer and Ghost began to scratch at the door begging to be let in. She knew Jon was inside and she worried why he was not answering her. Sansa decided to enter without his permission and Ghost gladly rushed in towards the hearth where Jon was brooding in a chair.   
“Did you not hear me?” Sansa asked as she approached him.   
“Sansa?” he replied startled at the loss of his solitude. He looked tired and lost. It seemed like he had not slept since she left a few days ago. She cupped his cheeked and kneeled to see his weathered face.   
“What are you brooding about Jon? I thought you would be most excited about our guests,” she asked stroking his beard.   
He sighed and leaned into her hand, reaching for her waist to have her sit on his lap. Jon closed his eyes and embraced Sansa. He needed her so much these days that he actually felt a sense of relief now that she was in his arms. Her touch calmed him and grounded him back to reality.   
“I’ll tell you about it tonight. I just want to hold you for a moment, please. You were gone for so long,” he said, tightening his embrace as Sansa kissed the top of his head.   
“But will you not kiss me first before you start brooding again?” she asked lifting his face up to her. Sansa smiled at him so sweetly that he could not bear to deprive her. He kissed her chastely at first but he could not be satisfied once he’s tasted her lips after so long. Jon moved a hand to the back of her neck and pressed her on to deepen the kiss. Sansa opened her mouth and allowed his tongue into hers. He then moved down to her neck and was about to unfasten her dress when Sansa stopped him.  
“As much as I’d want to do this now Jon, I don’t think it’ll be wise,” she said weakly as he continued to nip on that sweet spot on her neck. Her breathing was getting heavier and few soft moans had already escaped her. But Jon would not stop his hands from roaming her body and Sansa was losing every inch of her resolve.   
“We’ll be quiet,” Jon reassured her, all the while lifting her up and carrying her to his bed. Lust had already clouded Sansa once she hit the mattress and watched Jon remove his jerkin. She pulled him down with her and allowed him to do away with her dress. They made love to each other so slowly and so thoroughly to keep their moans inaudible. This was the first time he had taken her this way. Sansa had always felt loved when Jon made love to her. He’d always been gentle but passionate. However, this time she felt so much need and so want from him. Each kiss had been filled with an emotion Sansa could not exactly understand. And when came inside her, she felt him relieved of something she did not know.  
They lay together beneath the furs after they’d come down for their high. Jon held her in his arms and Sansa could not help but feel utter bliss. She realized now that he had been holding back before. There was always this guilt that troubled Jon about his relationship with Sansa. Had it not been for the strength of their emotions, Jon would not have ever touched her let alone bed her. It was only after they agreed not to speak of the matter did it get buried in their mutual joy. Sansa wondered now what had changed in her absence.  
She turned around to face him. A semblance of happiness was finally on his face. Sansa kissed him lightly and she felt him smile against her lips. “Turns out I’m not your brother after all,” he said in a hushed voice.   
“What do you mean Jon?” she said confused. Sansa did not know how to react to the statement. Of course it would mean better for them, but how was he not her brother?  
“Bran showed me the truth of my birth,” he replied, releasing her and lying on his back to stare again at the ceiling. “My mother was Lyanna Stark. Father made me his bastard to protect me from Robert Baratheon.”  
Sansa sat up and looked at him to see if he was telling her the truth. She could not find any words to reply and was just absolutely stunned by the revelation. It did not even occur to her to ask how Bran knew as the news made perfect sense. Her father, Lord Eddard, was not the kind of man to father a bastard but he was the kind of man who would sacrifice anything for someone he loved.   
“Then it means…” Sansa gasped when she realized why Jon did not want to receive the Targaryen party. He nodded at her and pulled her down to his chest. “Oh Jon, what will you do about this?”  
He kissed her forehead again before answering. “I am a wolf Sansa; I was raised a wolf not a dragon.”  
“You will always be a Stark, Jon. Regardless of who your father is. But this means you have a brother Jon, and an aunt- both of them looking for family.”   
“Is he at least a good man, Sansa?”  
“He is charming man, but whether he is a good man we are yet to see.”  
“He must at least be a decent man for Arya to serve him?”  
Sansa thought on it and recalled their interactions. “They are trying to hide their relationship but clearly he cares for her more than he wishes others to know.”   
“It makes me wonder all the more how Arya had been living all this time…” 

The Targaryen party set up camp within the walls of Winterfell while Aegon, Ser Rolly, and Cata were given their own rooms. Much to Cata’s chagrin, she was given her old room- confirming her suspicions that Sansa had indeed known who she was. Aegon did not like the fact that she was a whole tower away from him but did not have cause to relent. The Northerners had been such gracious hosts he could not bend their customs just yet.   
Arya looked around and noted how much had changed in her absence. Most of her furniture was still the same but the things that reminded of her childhood were all gone. The room was absolutely bare; after all she did bring most of her things to King’s Landing. Arya remembered Jon giving her Needle before they left. She recalled how Nymeria used to sleep at the foot of her bed. She remembered her Mother, her brothers, and her dearest Father. For the first time in her life, Arya allowed herself to cry for them. ‘I’m home, Father,’ she thought as she curled into the furs of her bed. ‘I’m finally home.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa have been having a secret relationship ever since they took back Winterfell.  
> I might write a separate story on that later on, but for now we're seeing them already in a solid place.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon finally meets Jon and makes his plea

Chapter 8

Night had fallen quite earlier than Aegon expected. From his room, he could hear the loud rancor of the Northern Lords filing into the Great Hall. ‘The King always dined with his men,’ said the pageboy who’d been assisting them. There would be no feast, as Princess Sansa explained on their way to Winterfell. They were welcomed guests but the North cannot afford to waste precious resources in a lavish feast. ‘At least I would finally get to meet him,’ Aegon told himself as he gazed at the snowed in courtyard from his window. 

Frankly, he still has not settled on how he felt about Jon Snow. He never voiced his suspicions to Arya, lest she snap at him. Aegon never knew his mother or sister so he cannot really feel anger over his father’s supposed betrayal. If Jon Snow was indeed his father’s love child that would mean that this King in the North is his family. Daenarys was his aunt. They did not truly trust each other and Aegon does not see her worthy of the Kingdom. ‘I don’t care for the North; he can have it,’ he mused as his breath made smokes in the cool air. ‘So long as he is also a dragon, I would not mind, I think.’

“The little lady must be feeling uneasy to be so far away from us,” Ser Rolly said lightly as he oiled his broad sword from a seat by the fire.  
Aegon walked away from the window and took the seat across his friend. “I doubt that Duck. After today though, I think Cata might be leaving my service,” he admitted sadly looking into the flames.  
“What makes you say that? The little lady is devoted to you.”  
“No Duck, Cata has always been devoted to her own cause. She just finds me convenient,” he replied shining a charming smile to reassure his friend.  
Ser Rolly swayed his head and looked at the Prince with rolling eyes. “Don’t pretend with me little lad. You would have her be your Princess if she’d say yes.”  
Aegon laughed at the thought leaving Ser Rolly confused but the knight did not bother to clarify.   
Their little banter was disturbed when the pageboy knocked on the door with a message from the King in the North.  
“His Grace, King Jon, has requested for his highness Prince Aegon to meet him in the godswood. I am to take you, m’lord,” the pageboy said nervously.  
Aegon looked at Ser Rolly who simply shrugged and wiped his sword one more time before fastening back his cloak.   
“Lead the way young man,” Aegon replied with a smile.

The way to the godswood was even drearier than the part of the castle Aegon had already seen. It was warmer than he had expected but still drafts of cold air would surprise them at every turn. The pageboy stopped at the edge of what looked like a forest within the castle.   
“His Grace awaits you at the heart tree,” the pageboy said and refused to move farther in.   
Aegon nodded and they proceeded towards the center where he could see the crown of red leaves. Aegon had been to the godswood at the Red Keep but this was the first time he was seeing a real weirwood heart tree. ‘Blood red leaves and bone with bark,’ he noted as chill went down his smile. It oddly reminded him of the Princess Sansa’s appearance. ‘Even the chill becomes her,’ he added, ‘so different from Arya’s wildness.’  
He found a bearded man with dark hair and a long face seated beneath the heart tree- a white direwolf at his feet and no guard nearby. ‘Ghost,’ he remembered the direwolf’s name, ‘so this one is his pet.’  
Aegon stopped a good distance from Jon and observed the quiet man. It seemed like he was just there enjoying the cold if a man could enjoy such a freeze. He looked so solemn and so tired. Aegon looked a lot younger than this man even though he was older. ‘Perhaps dying can age you.’  
“Prince Aegon,” he finally greeted, turning his attentions to the Dragon Prince.   
“King Jon, a pleasure,” Aegon replied curtly but did not bow. “I heard that you were unwell. Being outside like this might not be a very good idea,” he quipped.  
Jon stood from the root he was sitting on and padded some of the snow off his cloak. He did not even laugh at the jape but instead nodded in dismissal.   
“If I may, might I insist that we speak in private,” said Jon, his tone soft and not commanding. His voice was heavy and Aegon could see that he carried a weight in his heart. Ser Rolly was about to complain but Aegon raised his hand to stop him. “It’s alright Duck. King Jon won’t do anything to me.” Ser Rolly bowed at both of them and walked back to the entrance.   
Once the knight was no longer visible Aegon dropped his smile and looked sternly at Jon who still had that far off look on his face.   
“What did you wish to talk about in such privacy?” Aegon asked, dropping all frivolity.  
Jon couldn’t help but be amused by his directness. “My sister,” he replied in equal frankness.   
“What about Princess Sansa? She has been such a gracious host.”  
“Prince Aegon, I thought we’d dropped the dishonesty,” Jon scowled making Aegon sigh and raise his hands in surrender.   
“I do not control your sister,” Aegon admitted.  
“Then why did you bring her here?” Jon had changed his tone; there was a growl to it. Aegon also noted the direwolf standing beside its master and looking at him intently.  
“Arya had always intended to go back North. I simply escorted her so that I might acquire your attentions,” Aegon replied looking Jon in the eye. “If you truly knew your sister’s spirit you would know that no man could ever control her.”  
“Aye,” Jon replied, “Arya’s wolf blood is strong.”  
“That’s a way of saying it. The Freys and Lannisters experienced the grunt of it.”   
“Regardless of my sister’s presence, I would have hosted you still if your intentions were truly for the Night’s Watch. So then why did you need so much reassurance?”   
“I have several things I’d want to explore with you, King Jon,” Aegon said, emphasizing the word ‘king’. “I wanted to discuss the futures of our kingdoms and our families.”  
“You mean to conquer the North with Fire and Blood.”  
“No, my aunt means to conquer the North with Fire and Blood. I honestly have no interest in your territories.”  
“Then be frank Prince Aegon, what do you want?”  
“I want the Southron Throne. Daenarys is a conqueror, she is unfit to rule. I have a stronger claim but there is little I can do against her armies. Dorne and the Stormlands support me, while the Tyrells, Greyjoys, and now the Lannisters support her. Once the War for the Dawn has been one, the throne will be fought for within the chambers of the small council. I need your support.”  
“At least you do believe in the coming of the Great Other.”  
“Seeing this great winter, I could not help but do so. Daenarys will come in handy in this war of yours. I can promise you the support of the whole south in the coming war if you agree to join our houses.”   
“You want to marry Arya?” Jon almost laughed at the thought. His whole speech was all about marrying his wild sister.  
“I do want to marry Arya but frankly we both know that is impossible without her consent.”  
“Sansa then?” Jon asked with poorly veiled distaste.  
“No, I want you to marry my aunt and have her as Queen of the North so that I may return to King’s Landing and have the throne meant for my father.”  
The depth of Aegon’s plans took Jon aback. The Prince presented very compelling points that would prove advantageous to both of them.   
“You may chose to have the North become a Principality like Dorne or you can keep your independence. If things go more my way and I convince your sister to marry me then our child will be heir to both kingdoms,” Aegon added when Jon kept silent.   
Jon loved Sansa. He did not want to marry another but duty compels him to consider. They needed the south to survive this war. They needed the dragons to even have a fighting chance. Jon saw Rhaegal flying around the castle when he made his way to the godswood. The beast was massive and frightening. ‘Dragons breathed fire,’ Jon thought, ‘we need fire.’  
Jon sighed and had Ghost come closer for comfort. The direwolf nuzzled into his touch and sat beside him. “I will have to discuss this matter with my council, Prince Aegon.”  
“Take your time your Grace, just say the word and I shall send a raven back to King’s Landing immediately.” Aegon bowed before him mockingly before turning to walk back to the castle. “I shall go ahead to the great hall if you’d excuse me.”  
Jon did not say anything to the Dragon Prince as he returned to his root to think on his proposal.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany sets sail to the North and reflects on her position as Queen.

Chapter 9

The waves furiously hit the shores of Dragonstone. The cold winds have reached the island but snow was yet to fall. Daenarys stood atop the balcony of the room of the painted table and looked to North and saw the bleak horizon. ‘Aegon is surely playing his cards,’ she thought, ‘I wonder how Jon Snow will respond to my nephew’s tricks.’ Daenarys turned back and looked at her small council. With her were Lord Connington and Grey Worm; the two were busy discussing the final preparations for their voyage north. Her gaze landed on the crippled old man. The loss of his sword arm did little to affect him. ‘Surely he’s already told Aegon of my plans to invade the North.’  
“Show the North who holds the true power,” Tyrion told her one night, “Jon Snow will not let his men burn for pride.”  
Daenarys had grown curious of this King in the North. She had heard so many stories about him. ‘He is a living legend it seems,’ Daenarys mused, ‘a charismatic leader who earned the love of his people.’ The people of Westeros had no love for her; all they had was fear. The high lords came to her side and they all reveled in the turn of power but the small folk trembled before her.   
She wondered what her brother would have been like. As Aegon grew into a man, more people noted how similar he looked to his late father but his spirit was all Dorne. Ser Barristan described Rhaegar to be a peace-loving fellow; he wielded the sword well but preferred the harp. They said her brother would often be found quietly sitting in some corner thinking about the most trivial of things like prophecies and dragons. ‘If Jon Snow is indeed his son, would his spirit be like Rhaegar’s?’  
The King in the North was said to be the spitting image of the late Lord Eddard Stark. It wasn’t hard to believe that King Jon was indeed Lord Eddard’s bastard son. Tyrion said he was a good man. Tyrion said the Starks were good people. ‘Tyrion says a lot of things,’ Dany reminded herself, ‘but Tyrion does know a lot of things.’  
Viserion and Drogon flew over the ships as they played with one another, not even minding the strong gales. She needed another rider and she hoped Jon Snow would be that other rider. 

The royal fleet left Dragonstone after a fortnight. Lady Asha has sent word that her own fleet would be departing the Iron Islands within the week. The Tyrells and Martells have also made their way North. Daenarys planned on landing on White Harbor, while Lord Connington will take half of the fleet up to Eastwatch by the sea to truly assist the Night’s Watch. ‘I will not have him ruining my plans with Aegon,’ Daenarys thought again when she saw the old man commanding his own ship.  
The sea had not agreed with them shortly after they left, leaving them no choice but stop at Gulltown for a few days. The Lady of the port city allowed them to draw anchor on the threat of dragon flame but Daenarys knew that words has surely been sent north. She was not really counting on much surprise but this did not sit well with her either. The delay would give them more time to prepare- enough time for Jon Snow to spread his forces. Daenarys doubted the North could defend in three fronts.   
It took three days before the sea calmed enough again for them to continue on. She’d lost five ships in one stormy night but at least most of them men on board were rescued. Daenarys could feel her people’s morale depressing. ‘Must be the gods displeased,’ some of them whispered, ‘the Queen is planning on challenging their champion.’  
Daenarys wanted to throw a fit ever time she heard Jon Snow hailed as a god who walked among men. The Westerosi actually regard her evil for threatening the Good King in the North. ‘How was he able to win their hearts so well? Was it because he was the resurrected? Was it because he had rid the North of the terrible Bolton Bastard? How?’ Daenarys pondered. She yearned even more to meet this enigmatic King. She had never faced a foe such as Jon Snow. She was Daenarys Stormborn the breaker of chains. They called her Mhysa back in Essos. She was a Queen of the people. Yet in Westeros they all see her as a wicked foreigner. ‘When did I become such a hateful person? The throne is mine by right,’ but bile rose from her stomach whenever she’d said that. The truth was, the throne was Aegon’s by right. The sons of the first son always come before daughters. But Daenarys refused to be set aside because of her sex. She was the daughter of the last Targaryen King not his granddaughter. She was the mother of dragons. ‘Fire and Blood,’ she possessed both of them. However, Rhaegal had been claimed and Viserion might be claimed soon as well. Fear began to set in. She needed to make Jon Snow kneel. Aegon was a threat to her, but Jon was someone she would fear more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll leave this short for now. Things will certainly heat up in the next chapters.  
> Dany may seem negative here but I don't really think she's a bad girl. Just building some conflict here :)


	10. chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finally meets with her siblings

Chapter 10

Arya had fallen asleep while crying and awoke to see that the sun was rising to a new day. She removed her mask and washed her tear stained face. ‘Arya,’ a deep voice had been calling her in her dreams. She wiped the water away and tied her lose hair into a simple braid. ‘Nymeria should not be far from here,’ she told herself as she looked out the window one last time before exiting the room, leaving her mask by the bed. She walked through the familiar walls and saw images of their pups running around with them. It was another lifetime. Her whole family was still alive; now all that remained were shells of the happy people they once were.

Arya expected her sister to have her old chambers but saw that it was empty and seemed to have been vacated for quite some time. ‘Arya,’ the voice in her head said again. ‘Fine then, I’ll go to you,’ she replied. Quietly, Arya made her way to Bran’s old chambers. Her little brother had been unconscious when they saw each other last. He fell from the tower but her dreams had told her that Jaime Lannister pushed him from that tower- for that she killed the Kingslayer. Bran’s room was not far from Sansa’s old room; it was at the other end of the hall like the rooms of all her brothers. She passed by Robb’s and part of her wanted to enter and see what had changed but decided not today. For a moment Arya heard the ghosts of her past again but tucked away the memories as she knocked on the door to Bran’s room.  
A woman the same age as her opened it. She was small of stature with a warrior’s built and had curly brown hair and dark eyes. She wore a tunic and breeches and had a trident on her hand.   
“It’s alright Meera,” Arya heard Bran speak from within the room. His voice had already broken and sounded so much like Robb’s had. Meera quietly did as she was told and opened the door to let Arya in. Arya was secretly pleased that a capable woman was protecting her brother.  
“Sister,” Bran greeted her from the bed. He looked so much older than he should and he sounded exactly like the voice in her dreams.   
“So it was you who had been pestering me,” Arya said, relaxing at his presence. She sat herself at the edge of his bed and gave her brother a genuine smile.   
“You’ve done well Arya. The dragons are on their way.”   
“I got one dragon here, Daenarys is still in King’s Landing.”  
“She’ll be along soon enough,” Bran replied dismissively. Arya did not bother asking. She knew Aegon would eventually have the rest of the court follow him to Winterfell.   
Arya then turned to look at the quiet Meera who was sitting by the fire. “You have a fine weapon there my lady,” Arya said to the girl who gave her proud smile, raising her trident.  
“And so is yours, princess,” Meera replied pointing to Needle.  
“Spar with me sometime.”  
“My pleasure.” The two women smiled at each other like they were young girls playing with dolls.  
“Well, later then, I owe our silly sister an apology” Arya said, winking at Bran as she exited the door.

She decided to try her luck at the rooms near the Lord’s Chambers. It would make sense for Sansa to keep her quarters close to Jon’s. ‘It would probably be the one Brienne guarding,’ she mused. The tall female knight tailed her sister so faithfully it seemed obsessive. She climbed the stairs to the next floor and turned to the eastern corridor. However, instead of the tall blonde woman standing in front of the door, Arya saw a silhouette of a man walking out of the door next to the Lord’s Chambers. Arya hid her self in the shadows and clutched on the knife she kept in her boot. She waited stealthily for the man to pass her. She waited and waited then she heard a door opening. Arya peaked from behind the pillar and saw the door of the Lord’s Chamber closing.   
‘Jon?’ she thought. He was the image of their Lord father that part of her thought she had seen a Ghost. ‘  
Surely that was Jon.’ Arya quietly rushed towards his door and stopped just outside it.   
‘Why aren’t there any guards in the King’s quarters?’ she noted irately.  
Jon was being too lax, or was he being careful? Arya stood there stunned and unable to move. She did not know if she wanted to proceed into Jon’s quarters or to move to the room he had just vacated. But before she could decide, his doors opened and he graced her with a rare smile.  
“Sister,” he said in their father’s voice.   
Arya felt her breath hitch and she suddenly found herself jumping into his arms as she did when she was a child. Jon welcomed her with a tight embraces and spun her around as she weighed less than a feather. “I missed you,” she said with tears in her eyes, “I missed you so much.”  
Jon set her down and mussed her hair. “You look so beautiful without that infernal mask on, little sister,” he teased.   
Arya rolled her eyes at him. “You used to be smart Jon, being King made you stupid it seems.”  
He laughed at her jape; she could always make him laugh. “Why? Are you going to stick me with Needle for giving you a compliment?”  
Arya smiled at him and showed him the blade that was slung at her hip. “I know more than rule number one now,” she said proudly.  
“You ought to… sell sword from Braavos.”   
Arya couldn’t help but blush at the reference to Aegon. “Well I did kill a lot of Freys and Lannisters with it!”  
“So I heard from your Prince.” Jon would not let the matter go. It infuriated him at first- the thought of his little sister being the Prince’s mistress. But when he spoke to the Prince, it became obvious to him that Arya was the one in control of the relationship.   
“You’ve spoken to Aegon then,” she said turning serious. “I fell asleep the moment I got to my room that I was unable to see anyone after.”  
“Aye, we did,” he replied, sitting himself on his desk while she took to a stool of her own. “A schemer that Prince of yours.”  
“Aegon spoke to you honestly then?”  
Jon nodded at her and Arya noted a sad look on his face. “I would actually be a fool not to take his offer. But I don’t know what kind of a man he is. Sansa has observed him and she tells me that he is quite the player.”  
“I’d rather you form your opinion of him on your own, Jon. I won’t say he’s good person entirely but he’s not really that bad either.”  
Jon considered her words for a moment and stared at the ceiling in deep thought. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about his problems with his aunt. I just want my people to make through the Long Night.”  
“I know, and I think he knows that as well.”  
Jon sighed and patted Ghost before looking at Arya. “I don’t want to put you in a precarious position so I won’t ask more about him from you. I do want to know though, are you here to stay with us now?”  
Arya found herself torn but she mechanically said yes. Coming home to Winterfell was all that she’s ever dreamt of but she found herself oddly yearning for Aegon.  
“I’m glad. Sansa has already started on making a proper Stark jerkin for you with an embroidery similar to her formal dress.”  
“You and Sansa seem to have become quite close,” Arya commented, thinking on the peculiarity of the pair.  
Jon sat back into his chair and stared at the ceiling again before answering her. “You might say that I guess. Sansa has been the best Queen and unmarried King could have.”  
“She’s always been meant for such duties. It’s good that she wasn’t wasted on Joffrey.” Arya mused.  
“Sansa’s still married though.” Jon said absent mindedly as his thoughts drifted to the image of Ramsey Bolton’s bloodied head beneath him as he punched that smug smile out of it. “I heard Tyrion Lannister is still alive,” he added, breaking from the reverie.  
“He is, but don’t worry about him. In fact, he gave me this.” Arya took out the folded parchment from her inner pocket and then handed it to Jon.   
It was stamped the seal of the Hand of the Queen. He opened it carefully and read its contents. His eyes grew big in shock and a faint smile crept up his lips. “This is an annulment decree. Sansa would be so happy,” he said, jumping from his seat and rushing towards the door with Ghost at his heels. Arya remained seated and heard Jon enter Sansa’s room. She was about to follow him when she heard the door open again and found her sister rushing out in her nightclothes. Sansa did not even speak; she simply threw herself into Arya and embraced her little sister.  
“Oh I’ve wanted to embrace you since you walked into that tent.” She said kissing her sister’s hair. Arya felt weird with the contact but she felt like she owed Sansa at least this much for not coming to her sooner.   
“I’m glad you’re happy sister,” Arya whispered back.  
“I was so worried when Lord Tyrion wrote that mysterious missive to me. I was so afraid that the Prince was being mean to you. I begged Jon to let me go to Moat Cailin to see you for myself,” Sansa rambled on as she held Arya. Jon simply stood by door and happily observed them.  
“Lord Tyrion wrote to you?” she asked in alarm. “What did he say?”  
“Nothing much really, he said he was sending me a gift through you.”  
“Damn that Imp” Arya cursed. “He made all of you worry didn’t he? That’s why you were all the more careful about Aegon’s arrival.”  
“It matters not now, Arya. Our worst fears were not realized and that is what’s important,” Sansa explained, soothing her sister’s anger. “It’s quite odd though, Jon. Why are both dragons trying to court you?” Sansa mused.  
There was a blank look on Jon’s face and he turned his back on them as he took his cloak from the corner and draped it on Sansa’s shoulders. Sansa eyed him curiously and she knew what was on his mind. “They just want the North, Sansa. That is all.” He finally replied before walking away to return to his desk.   
Sansa’s expression turned grave. “Either way it seems that both parties want to marry you to the Dragon Queen,” she said with anger in her tone.  
Jon glared at Sansa before looking away and closing his eyes. Arya looked back and forth at the exchange.   
“What are you both arguing about?” Arya shouted, unable to understand the tension.  
“I told you Arya that I won’t put you in an awkward position with the Dragon Prince,” Jon explained.  
“You will have our sister not take sides in this?” Sansa said in anger.   
Arya and Jon were about to speak out when a knock on the open door disturbed them. All three Starks turned to see the young new Maester holding on to a piece of parchment. “Forgive me your Grace, forgive me my Lady but I have news from Gulltown. The Dragon Queen is on her way North.”  
“No, that’s impossible,” Arya reacted violently. “Aegon has surely not written back yet!”  
“Arrest the Dragon Prince,” Jon suddenly commanded. “The Targaryens seek to make fools of us.”  
“No Jon! This is entirely Daenarys, Aegon has not part in this,” Arya defended. “Let me speak to him first please. I know he would not do this.”  
“Are you certain Arya? It is an awful good plan to already have a dragon within our walls then attack our borders in surprise,” Sansa stated gravely.  
“Yes, I am certain. Even that letter smells of the Queen’s duplicity.”   
“Fine then,” Jon spoke, surprising Sansa and the Maester. “I’ll give you leave, sister, to speak to the Prince. If what you say is true and he is innocent of this, then he and I shall speak of better terms than the one he presented.”  
“Thank you, Jon. I promise I’ll be the one to slit his throat if I find him untrue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little longer than my usual chapters, but I felt that Arya needed to have ample time with each of her siblings before things got whirly again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon find out how full-proof his plan actually was

Chapter 11

Arya returned to her quarters and retrieved her mask before making her way to the kitchens. The maids were already busy preparing the Lords meals and were kind enough to tell her which tray was for Aegon and Ser Rolly. She took the food and made her way to their rooms.  
Ser Rolly greeted her with a carefree smile. “The little lad’s still asleep. We both missed your company at dinner last night.”  
“I fell asleep. It’s been a while since I slept in such a comfortable bed.” She explained, trying to hide her trouble.  
The two of them sat themselves at the small sitting room that adjoined Aegon’s bedroom. They broke their fast together and spoke of trivial things. Ser Rolly kept on complaining about the food served the night before. “I would barely call that soup. The bread was good at least.”  
“Their saving up for this long winter,” Arya explained.  
“I know… that’s what the Princess said. Queer people these lords are.”  
“Why’d you say that?”  
“Well, all I’ve seen of Westorosi Lords are the ones we have at the capital. The King for one is quite somber, especially for a king. Not easily slighted, that one.”  
“So Prince Aegon has spoken to him then?”   
“Aye, at the godswood before supper. I dunno though what they talked about but the little lad seemed pleased when he returned. He drank himself to as stupor celebratin.”   
“He didn’t look for me?” Arya asked a bit surprised. Aegon always sought her out when he wanted to celebrate.   
Ser Rolly shook his head as he shrugged and bit down on the hard bread.  
Arya sighed and finished her ale before standing up to go wake up Aegon.

He was sleeping on his stomach when she found him snoring away like a true drunkard. Arya could not help but roll her eyes at the pathetic site. Aegon was not a very hardy drinker. She went to the bed and turned him over. Drool had already dried up in his face. Arya laughed at how silly the silver prince looked. ‘If only those silly girls could see you now,’ she thought as she sat beside him.  
“Aegon… Aegon…” she nudged. “Aegon…” but he simply stirred and flipped himself back on to his stomach. Arya sighed in exasperation and decided to take graver measures. She kicked him off the bed and startled him awake.  
“How dare you!” he shouted as he tried to recover from the impact but all that greeted him was laughter. He had to blink several times to affirm that it was Arya laughing at him. His anger completely dissipated at the sound he so rarely heard. Her laughter usually had a malevolent undertone but here at her home there was mirth to it. Aegon collected himself and smiled softly at his lover. He returned to the bed and rested his head on her lap. “You’re too cruel. I already had a headache from last night. You didn’t need to add a bump that would swell.” He complained but he couldn’t hide the smile on his lips as he settled his cheek into her warm thighs.  
“That’s your fault for drinking too much.”  
“That wildling Tormund, I think his name, was such an interesting fellow. He got me to drink in contest with him and several lords. He even tried to coax your brother to join us but the King was too sullen to oblige.”  
“Jon is always sullen. He likes to brood and worry about everything.” She replied as she played with his silver hair. ‘I hope that was what he was doing in Sansa’s room- worrying.’  
“I did give him plenty to think about.” Aegon admitted.  
“You’ve told him of your secret plan?”  
Aegon nodded and took her hand to his cheek. “I told him I would have the south aid them in this war for the dawn and that I would let him have the North if he agrees to an alliance with me.”  
“And what are the other terms for this alliance?”   
Aegon opened his eyes and looked deeply into hers. “Marriage,” he replied softly.  
“Whose marriage?” Arya’s voice trembled slightly.   
“His and my aunts, and if the gods will grant my wish… ours.” He looked at her seriously and gripped on to the hand he held.   
“You must still be drunk. You are nonsensical.” She said turning her gaze away from him.   
He removed her mask with his free hand and turned her face to him. “What did I tell you at Harrenhall?” he asked her with gravity in his voice. Arya did not want to answer him. “I told you…” but she cut him off.  
“It’s irrelevant now. Your aunt has other plans,” she said taking back her mask and removing his hold on her.  
“What do you mean? I have not sent word to her yet.” Aegon propped himself up in urgency.   
“You aunt plans to invade the North. She travels here as we speak.” She replied, her voice turning into the steely tones it held at King’s Landing.  
“How do you know this?”  
“It does not matter how I know. Surely a raven will come within the day and Jon will know too.” Guilt flashed through her chest as she lied to Aegon’s face.  
“You have not told him yet you tell me?” He said in disbelief.  
“I was on my way to tell my sister but I got distracted by other things.” She did not want to tell him of her morning. She would not give him that card to play. Deep in her mind Arya knew that she was a Stark but again her heart was questioning her loyalties.  
Aegon slumped back and cradled his head. “Damn that Imp.” He knew it had to be Tyrion who suggested this move. Daenarys was smart but her temper and her emotions always made her predictable. It was Tyrion Lannister who made sure she was always a step ahead.   
“Damn, now your brother will think me dishonorable,” he complained.   
“You are not completely honorable,” Arya commented coldly. “But as you know, I rather you take the Iron Throne over your aunt. You promised to give the North its freedom after all.”

“Arya, how long before Dany reaches the North?” Aegon asked after several minutes of silence.  
“I don’t know. Perhaps a week or so by ship?”  
“A week is enough time for me to convince your brother I am the one he needs to chose.”  
“But Daenarys has the dragons and the resources to fight the White Walkers.”  
“I am hoping Jon would be able to claim Viserion,” he admitted weakly.  
“Claim Viserion? You need to have dragon’s blood to claim a dragon, Aegon…”   
He propped himself up on his elbows and turned to face her. “I think Jon might have the blood of the dragon.”  
“Jon is my brother. He is a Stark. How can that be possible?” Arya now spoke with anger in her voice. She fingers paled as she clenched her fists in anger.  
“Think about it, Arya,” Aegon said, now standing and walking towards her to calm her down. “You always said your father was the most honorable man who ever lived. Jon was born during the war my father started over your aunt. My sister had the dornish look. It is not exactly a leap in logic to think that perhaps your father’s bastard is actually my brother by blood.” He spoke calmly but with emphasis. Aegon placed his hands on her shoulders and he tested if she would let him hold her. Arya stood still but did not rebuff him. She was breathing heavily and holding back her tears. She thought on all the times she had spoken to him about Jon. They were rare but he always seemed so interested. Back then Arya thought it was because Aegon was truly interested in her past but now it was obvious that he was interested in the man that might be his brother. She could not understand what exactly she was feeling. It was a mixture of being robbed of the brother she loved so much and being betrayed by the man she reluctantly loved. So many thoughts had come rushing into her head. It was too much for one morning. Aegon was about to embrace her when Arya pushed him away and ran out of his room. Ser Rolly merely looked at her retreating figure. He looked to Aegon to see if he should pursuit but all he saw was a sad resigned look on the Prince’s face so he did not bother to come between the lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made it a little fluffy to sate my need for AryaxAegon fluff.


	12. chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the dragons circling around them, Arya has to decide where her loyalties truly lie.  
> Jon reveals a big secret while Sansa takes matters under her control.
> 
> please enjoy :)

Chapter 12

Aegon stayed in his room and fixed himself up. If the news of his aunt were true, then surely the Starks would be wise to move in and arrest him soon. He decided to greet them with calm and try to talk his way into an advantage. At least Arya still did him the courtesy of telling him before it exploded on him. Tyrion was truly shrewd. The dwarf had read on Aegon’s intentions on point. However, the offer has been made and Jon Snow has not yet declined. Aegon still had time to turn the tables on his aunt… permanently.  
He was disturbed when a knock was heard on the door. He looked to Ser Rolly who rose from his seat, dusted his armor, and then made his way to the door. ‘Here they come,’ Aegon thought. To his surprise it was not a group of soldiers at his door; it was Princess Sansa of House Stark and with her was her loyal guard, Lady Brienne.  
“Prince Aegon,” She greeted with a curtsey.  
“Princess Sansa,” he bowed, “I honestly was not expecting you, my lady.”  
Sansa gave him a chilling smile. It was so cold; Aegon could feel frost form at her feet. “My sister has surely been here already.”  
“Indeed she has. Arya left awhile ago.” He replied calmly.   
They both stood far apart at the edges of the room with both their sworn swords at their flanks reading the tension in the room.   
“Don’t worry Prince Aegon. King Jon will not be arresting you, lest we give your dear aunt pretext to invade our lands.”  
Aegon’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he let himself take a deep breath before falling onto the chair beside him. “And in exchange?” he asked resigned to defeat. Sansa Stark was the one holding this negotiation. He did not expect her to be this forward.   
“You will convince the Southron Lords to support us in this war against the Others… regardless of marriage.” Her last words stood firmly, her tone was nonnegotiable. Aegon leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs and regarded her keenly.  
“Why is it not the King treating with me?” he asked in an attempt to fluster her but her face did not even move a muscle.  
“Jon and I are equals. I may not have the title of Queen but I am the head of House Stark. If you wish to broker marriage with sister or my brother then you come to me.”  
“So King Jon simply does not wish to answer me personally,” he scoffed. “He does not trust me after hearing of my aunt’s journey North.”  
Sansa looked him in the eye and her gaze made sure to pierce him. “Let us be clear Prince Aegon. You are not in a dungeon now simply because my sister will be wrought if we were to throw you into one. You’re aunt will be in for a wonderful surprise once she lands on White Harbor. Both of you are foreign conquerors. I assure you that we Northerners are not afraid of burning in dragon flame; winter is here and with it is true horror.”   
Sansa turned her back to him and Aegon was left in his seat unable to move. He did not like the Princess’ straightforwardness. There was more to fear in honesty than in lies. Sansa may not wield a sword or change faces but she is as deadly as Arya- that much Aegon can surmise.   
“Think, Prince Aegon, on how you will bring the South over to our side,” Sansa said with a final curtsey before stepping out the door. It was only when she walked out did he notice the white direwolf sitting outside in attention. The direwolf’s red eyes stared him down for a moment before following his mistress in her retreat. Lady Brienne did not even bother saying anything and simply walked behind the Princess. Only the clinks in her armor could be heard as the three of them walked farther away. 

 

“Arya!” Jon called around the godswood. She did not go back to his room as they’d agreed on before. He’d decided to send Sansa to handle the wily prince while he handled their unpredictable sister. ‘I hope you haven’t changed too much,’ he thought as he trudged along the fresh snow that powdered the forest floor. Arya always hid in the godswood. Only Jon could ever find her.   
“Arya!” he called again but only dead silence answered back. He sighed and decided to stop and wait for her to come to him on her own. He sat himself beneath the heart tree and he took out a whetstone and began sharpening Long claw. It took a good half hour before a voice spoke from behind him and he knew it would be his little sister.  
“You won’t marry Daenarys?” she asked in a shaking voice.   
Jon did not turn to look at her. He and Sansa had not yet breached the topic but he knew in his heart that if he had a choice he would not even meet with the Dragon Queen.  
“Will you marry Aegon then?” he replied and then he heard her feet pacing towards him.   
“I asked you first,” she said pleadingly as she kneeled in front of him like a child.   
He mused her hair and for a split second he thought he was gazing at a child of nine and not of six and ten. “I do not want to but I don’t know yet if I have to.”  
Arya stood up abruptly and turned her back on him but she stood still. “I don’t like her.”  
“So I’ve heard.”  
“All she thinks of is conquering Westeros.”  
“And Aegon is not like that?” Jon asked before she started whining. He looked up at her with his brows raised and his eyes skeptic.  
Arya turned and faced him. She had a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. “Aegon actually knows how to rule. He has ambition yes, but he does not need a Lannister to babysit him on the Iron Throne.”   
Jon sighed and set his sword back in its sheath before standing up and placing his hands on Arya’s shoulders. “Little sister, there is something I need to tell you.” All blood pooled into the pit of Arya’s stomach as her face turned pale. There was certain sadness in Jon’s voice that told Arya of danger. Jon’s voice had never felt so unnerving before. Whatever it was he was about to tell, she could feel that she would not like it.  
Arya stilled herself. This morning alone had been trying moment after another. She should be able to handle one more revelation. ‘I was such a spirited child and I wondered where all my spirit had gone to all these years,’ she thought to herself as the once familiar fire of emotion burned in her again.   
“I’m not a Stark,” Jon began. He hushed her before she could protest by pressing hard on her shoulders. “My father was…”  
“No! He said he hadn’t told you!” she shouted, trying to break free of his hold. “You don’t have to believe everything Aegon says Jon.”  
Jon shook his head and his brows creased in confusion. “Arya, Bran was the one who told me.”  
Arya knew immediately what that meant. Bran had his way of telling them things. She herself had experienced it. Her crippled brother had been mysterious but he had always been true.   
“It’s true then. You’re a Targaryen,” she said with tears flowing in her eyes. Jon took her in an embrace and stroked her hair.   
“I’ll always be your brother, Arya,” he said trying to comfort him. But he felt Arya squirming as she cried.  
“It changes a lot of things Jon,” she explains as she looked up to him. “This means you can claim Viserion and the whole world will know. Aegon wants you to claim Viserion.”  
“Aegon knows?” he asked, remembering her earlier statement.  
“He doesn’t know for a fact but he is suspects.” She explained.   
“That dragon prince has more brain in him than I thought then,” said a female voice suddenly from the side. Sansa had suddenly appeared with Ghost by her side. Jon let go of Arya and put some distance between them. Ghost immediately went to the new space and nuzzled against Arya’s hand.   
“You’ve spoken to him?” Arya asked in alarm.  
“I just came from his chambers. He’s in there brooding. I told him to think of a way to be useful.”   
“Well done, Sansa,” said Jon softly smiling at her. Sansa blushed at the compliment and gave him a small smile before averting her gaze to Arya.   
“You know them well Arya. It’s time to tell us all,” she told her little sister in a commanding tone.   
Arya looked down at the content direwolf by her side. She understood what her sister was asking of her and she knew now what her choice was. ‘I am a wolf before I am anything or anyone else,’ she told herself.   
“What do you need to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Work caught up with me. Updates won't be so regular now but I do promise to finish this story.  
> Thank you for all the reviews. I hope you guys like where this is going.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenarys finally reaches White Harbor while Lord Connington continues on North.

Chapter 13

The Northern fogs would not clear but as the ship captain noted, they were within reach of White Harbor. She was certain that scouts have informed the Lords of the port town of her arrival. They've been ready for an attack but nothing ever came. Soon enough, the midday sun gave enough clearance for her to see the Merman's statue from her ship.  
Much to her surprise, there were very few ships docked at the harbor. There were even fewer men around. "Call for Lord Varys," she said to one of her guards. There was something very unsettling about the sight.  
The eunuch came dressed in thick furs as clouds formed with each breath he took. "You called for me, my Queen."  
"Go ashore with some of our men. Tell Lord Manderly that we would like to disembark and stay some nights before we all head to the Wall."  
"As you wish your grace," the eunuch replied, curtly eyeing her. She knew Lord Varys would do more than what she said. If the Northern Lords were planning on attacking her covertly, then she would most certainly not play into their hands that easily.

Varys never liked the North. It was a very shadowy place for a man like him. He used to have birds in the North but recently it had proven most difficult to get any reliable information from them. All he kept hearing was that the gods have sent them a savior. Varys had never met the bastard of Winterfell but he did know the bastard's late father.  
"Lord Eddard," he recalled with much sadness. Varys truly did try to save the man's life. He considered it among his many failures but his regrets will not sway him from Daenarys' cause. "Are you trully the kind of man to father a bastard?" He thought on. Before leaving King's Landing, Varys had the most interesting conversation with Lord Tyrion.  
"Her majesty says the prince suspects Jon Snow has a secret," the dwarf said to him in confidence.  
"Secrets are my trade," Varys replied. "However, try as I might, I could not find out more about your old friend."  
"Perhaps you are looking at the wrong places my friend. Instead of North, why don't we go looking in the South?"  
"Dorne you mean? I will admit that it has crossed my mind but it will be quite difficult to obtain evidence for it."  
"The evidence will be better in our hands than in the hands of our enemies. If Aegon's suspicions are true then the dragon who earns Jon Snow first will win the game."  
Varys sighed and drank a cup of wine. "Unfortunately for our queen, Aegon already has the key to Jon Snow's heart."  
"Arya Stark is quite close to her half-brother but Cata is not. How do you think the King in the North will receive the man who's turned his sister into a whore?"  
"My dear friend, you are a master of your craft. Has your dear little wife replied to your letter?"  
"I doubt she will but knowing her, my little wolf would be wary of the dragon prince."  
"Well done... Well done. I'll be sure to tell my little birds to help you on our investigation south while I accompany our Queen North." Varys smiled at his friend and they shared a toast before calling it a night.

A small host of Manderly men were at the docks to greet him. They did not seem hostile so Varys chose diplomacy. 'The sparks of war will not begin with my death,' he told himself.  
"Good sers, I am Varys, adviser to Queen Daenarys of House Targaryen. I come ashore to bid your Lord leave for us to disembark and rest a few nights before we journey on to the Wall."  
"Lord Varys," a young man with the Merman's crest on his armor moved forward. "I am Merron Manderly, nephew of Lord Manderly. My uncle welcomes you to White Harbor. We would be honored to host you and your queen up in the castle."  
"The pleasure is ours. Let me thank you in advance for being so accommodating to our party."  
"His grace, King Jon, has told us to be most gracious. Prince Aegon is an honored guest at Winterfell; White Harbor is honored to represent our king," the young lord proclaimed. Varys noted the reverence in the lad's voice when he spoke of his king. 'Jon Snow, so revered for a bastard.'  
Varys smiled and signaled for one of the guards with him to row back to the boats and tell the Queen of the Manderly's hospitality. Lord Merron remained to wait for the Queen's main party while some of the men went with Varys up to castle.

The rode on horse back through the deserted snow covered streets. Varys noted that the village itself was practically empty save for a very few houses near the harbor.  
"I thought White Harbor was supposed to be a bustling city, where are all the people?" Varys inquired to one of the men with him.  
"King Jon has gathered the whole North at Winterfell. Peasants and Lords alike are all welcomed there. The few of us who remain here are only those needed to keep the harbor operational for traders and seafarers. Winter is here you see, my lord," the young man explained with the same reverence the young Manderly spoke with when mentioning their King.  
"Wintertown must be very crowded then," Varys remarked.  
"There are tents and huts from the walls of the keep all the way to the horizon."  
"So all the North is at Winterfell?"  
"Yes, we need to stay together if we wish to survive the Long Night coming." The lad said as if he were reciting words from the book of the seven.  
"Curious... Quite curious," Varys remarked as he mused again on the matter of Jon Snow.

 

Lord Manderly observed the grand procession of Daenarys Targaryen as she and her Unsullied made their way up the streets of White Harbor. 'So different from our frugal king,' the old man noted. He could see the foreign soldiers covered in furs but he was certain it protected them ill from the Northern winds.  
"Make sure we have enough firewood for this lot," he told his steward. "Half of them would certainly not last the first blizzard."

"A rider from Winterfell arrived, grandfather," said Wynafred in a whisper as she took her place beside the old man. "He says the King will ride for White Harbor on the morrow." She reported with an obvious disdain at the approaching figure.  
"Worry not my dearest. There will be other opportunities for you to catch the king's eye." Lord Manderly replied in equally hushed tones, wary of Lord Varys' keen ear.  
"I heard that the dragon queen is the most beautiful woman in the world. It is already hard enough to stand next to Lady Sansa. Thank the gods she is his sister. I admittedly pale in comparison to my Lady's beauty. How much more beguiling could this dragon queen be?"  
Lord Manderly regarded his granddaughter for a moment. Indeed she was the prettiest of his brood but even he had to admit that Lady Sansa is far prettier. He tried to recall the Targaryens he'd seen as a young man. He had once seen the late Queen Rhaelle when she'd just been a young princess- she was most certainly the fairest woman he'd ever seen.  
"Just pray that the king does not favor silver hair and purple eyes," the old man quipped.  
"No one knows what the king favors," she replied haughtily. A handsome young king without a queen is no doubt the object of every single woman's dreams.  
The old man simply smiled and collected himself as they heard the horns blow and the gates open for the Targaryen host.

 

The gales grew sharper as they broke away from the main fleet and carried on to Eastwatch by the Sea. Lord Connington prayed for the wind to stay true with them so that he might send a messenger or at least a raven to Aegon, though he doubted birds could fly at this weather. His last missive was still from Dragonstone and he doubted the letter has reached the lad.   
Surely news of the Royal Navy going North has reached Winterfell, however the Ironborne coming in from the west and the other southron lords coming in from the south might still take the Northerners by surprise. Lord Connington hoped that these younger Starks are not as temperamental as his Stark contemporaries. ‘Eddard Stark was a quiet wolf but he still had a wolf’s temper when provoked,’ he recalled the somber man, ‘dear gods let them not take after Brandon. Cata most surely took more after her late uncle than her father.’   
The old man walked out to the forecastle deck and tried hard to warm his remaining hand. He does not know what will be waiting for them at the Wall. For some reason, part of him believed in the words of the former Lord Commanders. ‘Rhaegar, your prophecies are coming true,’ he thought snidely. He loved his old friend but even he never understood the late prince’s obsession with the prophecy of the prince who was promised. Many a night, Rhaeger spent holed up in the Red Keeps library buried in old books and ancient scrolls about this mythical hero. Anyone who knew Rhaegar would have said that he was the prince but then he believed it to be Aegon, and now Aegon believes it to be this Jon Snow.   
Lord Connington thought it was just the wolf girl’s influence that had Aegon thinking that the bastard of Winterfell was the promised savior. However, Aegon explicitly told him not to share his suspicions with Cata. “I don’t want to be a hero Jon. Heroes become legends because they die. I want to live and rule,” the prince explained to him. The sentiments placated his doubts. At least the boy was sounding more like a man.   
‘I fear there wouldn’t be a kingdom left to rule though,’ he mused bitterly. Connington looked back at his forsaken crew. Most of the soldiers with him were Stormlords and sellswords of the Golden Company. ‘Between Winter and the Dothraki hoard going around unchecked, Westeros will be forever changed by the time we all get back south… if we ever get back.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile since my last update.  
> Things are about to converge now that Dany is already in the North.
> 
> No Starks in the next chapter though, I've utterly neglected Tyrion so I'll be going back to him before we revisit Winterfell.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Arya talk about certain matters.

The sky darkened more each day and the winds grew stronger and colder. It only meant that snow would fall again soon. Sansa’s breath made smoke tendrils in the air as she sat in front of her desk gazing at the log of Winterfell’s stores. Jon was never much for managing the castle’s logistics, let alone the whole kingdom’s. It had always been left to Sansa. Normally, it was a joy for her to manage the accounts; it made her feel useful. However, today, her mind was elsewhere.   
It had been a fortnight since Jon rode to White Harbor. Sansa trusted Jon. She trusted him to be faithful to her. Unfortunately, she knew too well the allure of a beautiful woman. She herself had been the object of such temptations. Surely Daenarys will try to seduce Jon- it made perfect sense to do so. It was not just the Queen’s beauty that Sansa feared; it was also Jon’s honor. 

As king, Jon might be compelled to wed the Dragon Queen to spare Arya. Bile crept up Sansa’s throat at the thought of her sister. She felt guilt at wanting to force Arya into marriage to save her own happiness.

‘She loves Aegon anyway,’ she thought, ‘how can it be a fate so terrible to be married to a man one loves?’

A second bitter thought entered Sansa’s mind at the word ‘marriage’. If fate is kind, she will never have to marry for duty ever again but fate is cruel. She and Jon could never marry unless they find proof that he is indeed not her brother. Bran’s words alone may not be enough to convince the honorable Northern Lords.   
Sansa placed a hand on her belly and wondered how it would feel to have Jon’s seed quicken inside her and give birth to a young prince of Winterfell. A tear fell from her eye as she fantasized having the sound of childish laughter ring through their halls once more. The mirth of youth was stolen from them too soon.

“Why the tears, sister?” asked a shy voice from the door. 

Sansa looked up and saw that it was her sister standing there with a tray of food. Sansa let out a deep sigh and plastered a smile on her face. 

“I was just trying to retrieve a memory,” she replied as she gently wiped the tears of her eyes. 

Arya settled the tray of bread, cheese and ale on Sansa’s desk before sitting herself on the table. 

“And which memory would that be?” Arya asked, veering her gaze away as she chewed on a piece of bread.

“The sound of children laughing. I was trying to recall the sound of our childhood.” 

“To be honest, I can barely remember being here all together,” Arya admitted quietly.

“We were so young when we left, but I remember that day the wolves came like it was yesterday,” said Sansa, closing her eyes solemnly.

Arya looked softly at her sister and she found herself sharing the smile. They were never close as children but neither were Sansa and Jon and they are now inseparable. She went to Sansa to check on her sister who had been very remote since Jon left. Arya understood that with the King gone, everything was left to the Queen and Sansa was most certainly Jon’s Queen. Sansa would’ve made their mother proud. 

“Arya, if you wouldn’t mind me asking,” Sansa started and Arya nodded at her in question. “Will you really not be happy married to Aegon?”

Arya almost choked at the question and had to cough out the bread stuck to her throat. Sansa could not help but laugh at the sight of her sister all flustered. 

“You love the man, so I do not understand your objection,” Sansa continued.  
Arya paused and looked at her sister in the eye. “I am not certain if he loves,” Arya answered honestly. It was the first time she had acknowledged her fears and it felt good to share it with her sister. “Aegon is a person who wears faces and well as I do. I do not want to be his pawn against Jon.”

Sansa regarded her sister and thought of her sister’s situation. “Has he given you any reason to doubt him?” she asked.

“Honestly, no. Aegon has been loyal to a fault. He should have married Daenarys but he did not on my account. He should have married Arianne Martel but he did not, again on my account. But I could not help but feel that I am his key to the North and the throne.”

Sansa took Arya’s hand into hers and stroked her sister’s palm. “Arya, Aegon is not the kind of man to become a consort and there is not point in strengthening his ties to the Martels. And you, my sister, are truly the key to the North. Why else would we have entertained him?”

“But I do not want to be used by anyone.”

“Aren’t we using him too? We needed the strength of the South. Aegon and Daenarys’ struggle for the throne brought the whole South to our aid.”   
Arya was silent. It had all been working out for them as if everything had been planned all along. 

“Sansa, have you been hearing the Weirwoods?” Arya asked in urgency.

Confused, Sansa looked back at her as if Arya was speaking in tongues. “No Arya, I’ve never heard the old gods.”  
Arya decided to let it go and simply decided to visit Bran after she finished with Sansa. 

“Never mind the thought, sister. It was just a silly idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I know it's been awhile since I updated. I'm still trying to get back in the groove of this fic. Please forgive any inconsistencies as I've been reviewing this just now and my notes are all a mess.
> 
> I'll try to update more regularly but no promises.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon arrives at White Harbor.

The journey to White Harbor took twice as long as it should have. Jon and his men came weary from the frost and strong winds but the young King of the North still looked as valiant and handsome as the rumors claimed him to be. Daenarys watched from beside Lord Manderly as they stood in the yard to welcome the Jon Snow. Her heart could not help but skip a beat as he saw the young king, dressed in the blackest cloths, descend from his horse, remove his gloves and walk towards them.

Lord Manderly and the rest of the Northerners kneeled before him and he made them rise immediately. 

“Your Grace, may I introduce to you Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons,” spoke the old Lord. She barely heard her name called Jon Snow’s presence enchanted her. It was not until she noticed him reaching to kiss her hand that she was released from her trance. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you Queen Daenarys,” He spoke in a low, deep, voice that made her blush. There was something sonorous about his speaking voice, very different from Aegon’s, but at the same time quite familiar. 

“The pleasure is all mine, King Jon,” she managed to reply coyly, having remembered that she was, if not the most, one of the most beautiful women in the world.

“Simply Jon would suffice,” he said in almost a whispering tone. “We are of equal rank after all.” He followed quickly, unable to hide his discomfort at having the title.

‘Such honesty is rare among nobles,’ Daenarys thought as she took his arm and they all went into the castle for some warmth. It was then that she noticed the absence of his famous direwolf.

 

“I see you have not brought your direwolf. I was quite curious about them,” she said over the meager dinner they shared in the Great Hall. King Jon, as she found through out the night, was not much for conversation; hence, it was up to her to find ways to subtly seduce him.

“I left him at Winterfell to protect my sister,” he replied- short and simple. 

“You mean your sisters, do you not? I heard that Cata was in fact your long lost sister.” 

“No, I meant only Sansa. Arya has her own wolf to protect her.” Again, he gave her a simple and short answer. It was starting to frustrate Daenarys that Jon Snow was barely putting an effort in entertaining her, let alone flirt with her. The man would not even let his gaze linger at her too long. Daenarys looked sideways to Varys, knowing the spider was watching her efforts. The eunuch merely shrugged and gestured for her to continue on.

Daenarys then placed a hand over his arm and it made Jon look at her questioningly before retracting. She was about to speak but was cut-off when Jon took initiative for the first time that night.

“Queen Daenarys, I am certain you are tired of all this small talk you are doing and it’d be best if we would go now in private with you council to discuss important matters,” he said politely standing and offering her his arm. 

“Well of course, that would be more efficient,” was all that she could say as they exited the room and their entourages followed them. 

It was a silent walk to an annexed room but the sound of Daenarys’ disappointment rang in her heart. Jon Snow was the first man to look upon her without lust or reverence. He looked upon her as if she were just some ordinary girl. It made her curious. She felt challenged.

They were seated at the ends of the long table while their men occupied their respective halves. Ser Davos, as she recalls the old man’s name was, sat to King Jon’s right and whispered several things to him- things the King obviously refused. King Jon waved him away and the old man sat down in a huff. King Jon then looked to Lord Manderly who took a seat the middle of the table, ready to act as mediator. 

“Queen Daenarys,” Jon Snow spoke suddenly, silencing the whispers in the room. “I will ask you directly and trust that you will answer me truly. Why have you come up North?” 

The southron side was slightly taken aback by the directness of the question but showed little fluster. “No use for flattery I see, much like your father,” Lord Varys commented.

“Yes, Lord Varys, much like my father. My father whom most of you watched beheaded in spite of his innocence.” The King replied with a growl.

“My my my…. Your Grace. Let us make one thing clear. I was very much the only person true to you father in that court. Had Joffrey not had been a rabid dog, Ned Stark would have joined you at the Wall.”

“I know that story, my sister has told me. I would rather not get into who’s to blame for the injustices my family faced. We have greater things to worry about. Hence, I ask again. What are your intentions for coming North?”

This time, Daenarys was the one to answer. Looking him in the eye she stood from her seat and set her palms on the table. “My dragons, King Jon. I offer you my dragons to help you with your problems if you agree to bend the knee. Else, I will burn the North.”

The Northmen laughed at her, with some of them claiming they fear the cold winds of winter more that dragon flame. 

“Silence!” Ser Davos shouted and they all stopped when the noted the scowl on Jon Snow’s face. Daenarys looked to her own men who were all tensely holding their swords. She signaled them to stand down and reverted her gaze back to the King of the North.

“We Northerners remember southron rule and it has not done us good. We Northerner do not fear flame; we fear the cold winds of winter and the dead that comes with it. We Northerners will fight for our Independence with every breath we have,” he declared sternly and his men pounded on the table in support. “However, I am King and my people come first to me. Your nephew has already offered me a gracious deal. One that I am more than inclined to accept. The only leverage you have over him is that you have two dragons to offer instead of one.” 

“You want me to court you for your support!” she shouted in indignation. “I am the Mother of Dragons. I will take what is mine with Fire and Blood!”

“What is yours? By rights your Grace, you must mean what is your nephews? The sons of the first son do come before daughters, do they not?” Interjected Ser Davos.

“How dare you question our Khaleesi!” shouted Grey Worm and drew his sword. He was only stopped by Varys’ look of reprimand.

“Aegon’s claim is weak. He has little proof that he is indeed my brother’s son.”

“But he has claimed a dragon and it is enough proof of his Targaryen blood.” Ser Davos continued. 

“You mean to declare, then, Ser Davos that the North has already declared for Prince Aegon?” asked Varys calmly.

“We are yet to declare for him,” Jon Snow spoke and his men were once again disciplined into silence. “Aegon has, however, offered us independence. Whilst I find that more appealing, supporting Aegon’s plans will mean more blood shed and another war. Supporting your plans will also lead to more blood shed and another war. And war means more dead, more dead means more whites. And the Night King already has more that 500,00 undead soldiers at his command.”

“You obsess so much about this legend, yet you have no proof that they exist!” Daenarys shouted.

“You have a red priest with you at all times, yet you do not believe in the great other. Well, it is not a matter of belief for us. I have battled them in Hardhome and I will do everything in my power to keep my people alive. I do not care who sits on the Iron throne. Fight with us and I will remain neutral in this little squabble you have with your nephew,” Jon declared loudly and the room filled with silence. “I will give you time to think on this offer,” he continued more calmly, “My men and I shall remain at White Harbor until the storms clear. By then I hope you have chosen the most peaceful option. Aegon’s trap has already been set, if you must know. The North refuses to play a part in it. Help me and my people and I will make sure the two of you will live long enough to squabble into the summer.” Jon Snow then left the room with his counsel, leaving the Southron Lords debating on what trap Aegon Targaryen had set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile, but at least things are moving :D   
> I hope you like it!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion tries to handle things in the South and gets a surprise when Arianne Martel suddenly appears.

It was supposed to be mid-day but it seemed more like a gloomy afternoon in King’s Landing thanks to the thick clouds and ever-falling snow. The cold wind go deeper south and with it come more peasants seeking shelter at the capital. Overpopulation, however, was the least of Tyrion’s problems. His long line of supplicants were all telling him the same damn thing- The Dothraki have run amuck. With most of the fighting forces up North the people of the Crownlands and the Reach could do little against the savage horselords. The Dornish are faring better but were still not doing well. Tyrion had his garrison of Unsullied but even they could not be everywhere all at once. 

‘What is little old me to do?’ he grumbled to himself as he half listened to the poor farmer whose family had to flee to King’s Landing because the savages sacked his house. 

“Good ser, the crown will provide you assistance in the winter and I assure you that the Royal Army is taking care of things.” He replied for the umpteenth time that day. 

‘Daenarys’ expedition North has not only caused us to loose coffers but also lost us a way to refill them.’ He sighed at the gravity of the situation. ‘Unfortunately, if she doesn’t take care of our Aegon problem soon and head back, there will be a King on the Iron Throne instead of a Queen soon.’ Tyrion did not like that prospect at all. 

 

After court was finished, Tyrion headed into the Small Council chamber where a map of Westeros was laid out. By now, he thought, Dany would be in White Harbor; the Greyjoys in the Saltspear, while the Tyrell and Martel forces should be standing-by at the Twins. Winterfell will soon be surrounded. His pieces were set. Hopefully, Dany would be able to get Jon Snow to kneel under the pressure of an invasion. 

He was deep in thought and in his cups when a sudden intrusion lifted him from his thoughts. Tyrion looked up, about to reprimand the guards, when he saw Arianne Martel standing in front of him with a very rotund maester behind her.

“Lord Tyrion, it’s still a little too early to be as drunk as you are,” the Princess of Dorn remarked, taking a seat across him without even bothering for his permission.

“I work best drunk, your highness. To what do I owe the pleasure? The Dothraki again?”

“Well they are a problem, but my army, or at least what’s left of it, is taking care of them. The winter winds will take them soon.” She replied nonchalantly. 

“May I offer you some wine then?” Arianne nodded and the cupbearer rushed to her and her companion, who was still awkwardly standing behind her- fidgeting with a large tome. “And who is this young lad?” Tyrion asked, squinting his eyes to see more clearly. Then he finally recognizes the man. “Samwell Tarley?” 

“Your remember, my lord. It is nice to see you again.”

“What are you doing this far south?” 

“He was sent to the Citadel by the former Lord Commander Jon Snow,” Arianne explained before Sam could utter a word. “And he has made sever great discoveries in his short time at the there.”

“Yes, my lords… uhm… I meant, your highness…uhm… it’s about the prophecy.” Sam began, unsure if Tyrion will take him seriously.

“The prophecy about the long winter? The Azor Ahai?” Tyrion replied mockingly. “I’ve heard about this in great length from the Red priests from Asshai. Are you here to convince me as well that Daenarys is champion of the great god?”

“I’m afraid you don’t believe in the great other do you, Lord Tyrion. But I assure you that I have seen them for myself, and I have survived several encounters with them only out of sheer luck. But your men will not be able to win against them without the proper weapons. You have to recall the invasion, Lord Tyrion. You are sending all of them to death and I don’t think even Jon can handle an army of whites that large.”  
Tyrion tried not to laugh but then looked to the Princess who was bored waiting for Sam to finish his pitch. “You believe this, Princess?” Tyrion asked sincerely.

“It does not matter if I believe it or not. I simply promised this young man my help, in exchange for his help in proving a certain matter that has bothered me for decades.” Arianne set down her cup and turned her attention to Sam. “Now Maester Tarley, now that you’ve said your piece to the Lord Hand, I would like you to discuss the piece of information you and my cousin uncovered.”

Sam sighed and trembled as he resigned to Arianne’s request. He settled the large tome on the council table. It was an old book, bound in black leather, and decorated with a few rubies. Tyrion stood and approached the book as Sam turned to the page he needed.

“That’s the Book of Targaryen Lineage.” Tyrion noted. 

“Yes, it is. And contains a rather conveniently hidden secret.”

“Here,” Sam said pointing to the account of birth in the Tower of Joy, reported by the Maester of Starfall.

“Who is Vhaegar Targaryen?” Tyrion mused.

“Get there faster Lord Tyrion. The child was born in 281 AL in Dorne.” 

“Jon Snow…” Tyrion replied in a gasp. “This changes everything… this means, Jon is the true ruler of Westeros…” he mumbled on as he fell back on his chair.

“Maester Tarley, please leave us for a moment.” Arianne commanded at Samwell who took his tome and left briskly, praying to the old gods that he had done Jon no harm.

Once the maester was safely out of the room, Arianne approached Tyrion and kneeled to level with him. 

“This is not only a problem for Daenarys, this is also a problem for Aegon. This third Targaryen has proof more veritable than anything else,” she whispered into the Hand’s disgruntled ear. “We need to be rid of him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be the chapter before chapter 14. I've been neglecting the South for a while so I made this. It's short, but it's all you that needs to be written for now.
> 
> I hope you like it.  
> PS. Don't kill me for making up the name Vhaegar, I just didn't want to use the Jaeharys trend. no real reason, I just wanted a dragon name.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, he knows who she is.  
> and no, she's definitely not stupid or blind.  
> please read the next chapter to find out :)


End file.
